


The Sparrow Still Sings

by predominantly_normal



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Asexual Character, Camp Counselor Max AU, Humor, M/M, Mental Illness, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 101,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predominantly_normal/pseuds/predominantly_normal
Summary: When a 24 year-old Max is fired and hits rock-bottom, he's forced to return to Camp Campbell as a counselor. He's not overly upset about the whole situation; he just didn't expect to see Nikki and Neil there, too. And he certainly didn't expect them to be hiding something from him.[Max/Preston] [(Onesided)Max/Neil](Camp Counselor Max AU)





	1. Max Slashes Some Tires

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Sexual References  
> -Depictions of Depression  
> 

Max Slashes Some Tires

Theft- that’s what they had fired him for.

Not for his countless late clock-ins, and not for his shitty attitude. Not even for threatening to suplex one of his customers in the parking lot.

Max was pissed.

The human resources manager, a greasy red-haired man in his thirties with spotty acne and braces-clad teeth, had shoved Max out the door with his last check, and a pink slip detailing the grounds by which his employment had been terminated.

“Fuck you, Pikeman!” Max snarled, his teeth peeking out behind his drawn lip. The pink document crumpled in his clenched fist. “You can’t just fucking let me go without notice! There’s gotta be some kind of ethics violation associated with that.”

Pikeman grinned until his face split in half as he adjusted the managerial badge pinned to his Wal-Mart uniform. “Always so antagonistic,” he hummed. “You should be glad I’m not having you charged with any _criminal offenses._ ”

“Oh, bullshit. You’ve been out to get me since the day we were both hired and you know it,” Max sneered.

Pikeman covered his mouth, feigning shock. “Whoops. Caught me,” he said. He rolled his eyes and let his hands fall back behind his hips, setting into the rigid posture he’d picked up during his long run with the Wood Scouts.

“And isn’t it interesting that we were both hired on the same day? A little hard work and elbow grease, and I’m third in line to succeed as the store’s general manager, and you-,” he jabbed his index finger into Max’s chest, “are finding yourself woefully unemployed, and never having earned a cent above minimum wage.”

Max barely refrained from snapping Pikeman’s finger.

“Fuck you,” Max snapped. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

A greasy, wolfish smile spread upon Pikeman’s face. “Clean up, cut that mop off your head, and apply for another job. You always hated it here anyways. I don’t see what has you so bothered.

“You sick little bastard,” Max laughed humorlessly. He shot one last glare in Pikeman’s direction before turning on his heel.

“I’ll find a better fucking job. I don’t need this capitalist circle-jerk of a hellhole.”

“Good luck! And ping me if you need someone as a reference!” Pikeman called.

And with that, Pikeman waltzed back into his air-conditioned, bargain-filled kingdom, and left Max outside. Max threw curses under his breath as he made his way through the parking lot.

The soft hiss of air being released followed Max as he packed himself into his crummy old sedan. He threw his pocket-knife into the glove box, ripped the name tag from his chest, and punched the rim of his steering wheel.

“Fuck!” Max yelled. “Fuck, fuck _fuck!”_

He wanted to scream until his throat hurt. But this was a public parking lot, and he was not a belligerent child throwing tantrums in the toy aisle. With a sort of smooth grace, he forced a stony expression onto his lips, and repressed himself.

Fighting against the shakiness of his own hands, Max eased his key into the ignition. His car groaned in protest for a moment before sputtering to life. The low roar of his dashboard radio filled the air with cheap white noise. Max set his brain on autopilot, and pulled out of the parking lot. As he left, he made sure to offer a middle finger to Pikeman's car, a red SUV with a broken mirror and four freshly slashed tires.

Max arrived home within the next hour, holding in one hand his apartment keys, and in the other a McDonald’s breakfast order.

He slipped off his tattered sneakers and eased the door shut with care.

Max set his food on the table and changed out of his work uniform in favor for a plain black shirt lying across the back of his couch.

He looked around his tin-box apartment, which suddenly began to feel all-too lavish for him.

Thankfully, he had just paid the month’s rent. He’d have a full thirty days (plus one week’s grace-period) to pick up another job before he’d be forced to leave. Of course, his longtime roommate would’ve gladly offered to cover his half until he got back on his feet, but Max would faster sleep in a cardboard box behind the local 7-11 than be taken pity on.

As if summoned by Max’s passing thoughts, the tired older man shuffled out into the dining room rubbing his eyes.

“Go the fuck back to sleep, Preston,” Max ordered.

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” Preston yawned. “I was roused anyhow. Marcus wanted to go over our lines a few hours early before rehearsal.”

“You’re hanging out with Marcus? That obnoxious fucking chain-smoker?” 

“I’m not fond of his bad habits either, Max. But he’s a damn good actor, and he happens to be my co-star. Now is some of this mine, or am I fixing myself Fruit-Loops for breakfast?”

“Go wild.”

“Gladly.”

Preston stretched out and fixed his glasses upon his nose, taking the chair across from Max’s. He rolled his shoulders, and tied his dark hair into a sloppy bun. He hummed as he gingerly reached into the McDonald’s bag.

“Ah, you remembered. Excellent,” Preston remarked, pulling out his food.

“You order the same fucking thing every time, you obsessive freak. How the hell would I forget?” Max snapped back. “And who the hell orders only egg-whites on their McMuffins to be _healthy_? It’s fucking McDonalds.”

“It’s better than that greasy, sodium-monstrosity that you always order,” Preston said, pointing to Max’s sandwich. “Honestly, if you put some time into the _alternatives_ , your skin might clear up.”

“’Alternatives’ my ass. If I’m going to be forced into this preservative-worshiping American society, I’m damn well going to do it right.” To punctuate his claim, Max dumped a packet of salt onto his hash brown before tucking it away in two bites.

“Obnoxious,” Preston rolled his eyes.

“Don’t insult yourself like that,” Max shot back, grinning.

Max appreciated Preston in the mornings. Without the energy to perform his intense dramatics, he was almost bearable to be around. Even his low rasp of a morning voice came pleasant to the ears (volume control had always been an issue for Preston).

Still, after living together for so long, Max had eventually learned to even tolerate Preston’s more annoying eccentricities. And if he were completely honest with himself, he’d even admit that he had grown _fond_ towards some of them.

They’d become roommates after Max had gotten kicked out of his house in sophomore year. By then, Preston had graduated out of high school, and had moved closer to the city to get involved with theater productions that were far more prodigious than what his dinky little suburb could offer. They’d met through Facebook (back when Facebook was still relevant), and agreed to split costs on an apartment together.

Max would not claim to be sentimental, but after finally feeling as if he had a home for the past eight years, he felt bitter towards the possibility of leaving it behind.

“Max? Are you alright? You look plagued.” Preston paused between bites of his food to offer Max his full attention.

“Just fucking peachy,” Max snapped.

“Peachy is how I felt playing Mercutio for the first time in SoHo. You, on the other hand, look like the little twink bitch I beat out in auditions.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Max rolled his eyes. “Look, Preston. I’m fine. Get off my case.”

“Maxwell-,”

“Don’t call me that.”

Preston sighed and, finding little else to say, reached across the table to grab Max’s hand. An insult formed at the tip of Max’s tongue, but he bit it down and settled for a drawn-out huff of exasperation instead.

As circumstance would have it, Preston had somehow become the first and only person capable of touching Max without getting a finger taken off. And he abused that privilege often- especially when his words failed. He was always gentle, and always chaste. When he had no other way of conveying himself to Max, Preston would sigh and lace their fingers together or lay a hand on Max’s lower back.

Of course, they didn’t hold one another. They didn’t kiss. They weren’t boyfriends.

To be frank, Max didn’t exactly know _what_ he and Preston were. He was convicted that they had stranded themselves in a gray zone that surpassed friendship, but fell inches short of partners. The phrase “soul-mates” had been bouncing about his head for the better of the past few months, but Max refused to believe something so idealist and _helplessly romantic_ could ever hold any real weight in the scope of his pitiful existence.

If anything, Preston was a comfort. He was a familiarity. An annoyance, of course (all people tended to be), but an annoyance Max was willing to tolerate.

Preston rubbed circles into the back of Max’s palm. His bright amber eyes glazed over with worry.

Preston frowned as his wits came to him. He made an expression as if finally noticing the disparity between two images in a "find the difference" game.

His eyes locked on the blue polo Max had discarded onto the floor. “Max, I thought you said you were supposed to work today?”

“Maybe I was,” Max grumbled, gritting his teeth. “Why’s it your fucking business?”

“You didn’t call off again, did you?”

“Nope.”

Preston’s eyebrows knit. With all the sleepy grogginess sobered from his systems, the unnerving intensity behind his eyes burned into Max’s skull like laser beams.

Max felt his chest tighten. He really should have lied. He should’ve said that he’d called the entire week off to use up the last of his vacation days. Then he’d have time to find another job without ever having Preston worry about him. He wouldn’t be a stressor or a burden.

But Max caught the tight-lipped frown already present on Preston’s face, and he knew that he was fighting a lost battle.

“Max, what happened? You didn’t get sent home for another behavior problem, did you?”

“No.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “Quit overreacting, alright? It's no big deal.”

“I am _not_ overreacting,” Preston snapped. He stood up and kicked his chair back. He walked towards Max, placing one foot directly in front of the other as if the floor was a balance beam. He raised a hand to cup Max’s jaw.

Max jerked away, swatting Preston’s wrist to the side.

“Don’t touch me,” Max warned. “Finish eating. You’re too fucking skinny. I can see your ribs every time you take off your shirt. It’s unhealthy.”

Preston blushed and crossed his arms over his stomach. “My weight is none of your concern. Now tell me what happened.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Marcus?”

“I’ll just tell him I was running late,” Preston retorted, a determined look upon his face. “Now I am prepared to sit here and wait until you are ready to tell me what is wrong.”

“You’re going to be waiting a long fucking time, then,” Max sneered.

He flipped Preston off, and pushed out of his seat without another word. He stormed off towards their shared bedroom and flopped down on their old mattress.

Max felt like he was a kid again, throwing tantrums in his room.

He wanted to thrash in the covers- he wanted to scream, and to make noise, and to be the general nuisance that all children are by nature. But he didn’t. Instead, he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, and clenched his fists until his nails left crescent-moon shaped imprints upon his palms.

“Max…”

Max hadn’t noticed Preston walking in, but then again, Preston had always walked silently upon everything but the stage.

Preston made his way across the room and lied down on the bed next to Max. He tried to keep his distance, but the bed sagged in the middle, and he rolled closer to Max anyways.

Max didn’t acknowledge Preston, though he did allow some of the tenseness in his shoulders to ease. He would never admit it, but he had a small appreciation for Preston's pestilent stubbornness. He loved how Preston made it a point to never give up on him. He loved that Preston cared.

It was one reason among many that Max cited Preston often when he thought of home.

“I’m deeply sorry for raising my voice,” Preston said. “But I care about you. I want to know why you’re upset. I want to make it better- whatever it is that’s ailing you. I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

Max chuffed humorlessly. Venom laced his voice like a poorly-tied gym shoe. “You didn’t do a fucking thing wrong.”

“And yet you’re disenfranchised with me,” Preston countered.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so pissed if you talked like a normal goddamn person. You’re not high and mighty because you spent half-an-hour jacking it to the Oxford Thesaurus.”

Preston laughed. “Oh, fuck you,” he said.

“That’s better,” Max conceded.

Max rolled over until his face was inches from Preston’s. He didn’t look up to meet Preston’s eyes. There was a small, untapped fear within him that if they locked gazes, Preston would see in Max’s eyes what Max saw every morning in the mirror. And then, inevitably, Preston would finally realize that Max was a lost cause and give up on him like everyone else had.

Max was deathly still as he lay, trying to focus on the sound of Preston’s breathing. His eyes took in every stitch on Preston’s plain white shirt.

He wondered if this was the last time he’d ever get to examine the other man in such intimate detail.

“Preston, I’m such a fuck-up,” Max said, and it felt oddly like admittance to guilt as the words rolled off his tongue. He spoke with a plain inflection, as if reciting the Sunday Paper headlines.

 _“What?”_ Preston reeled back a bit, and adjusted his view to look more squarely at Max. “Don’t say such things. You are most certainly _not_ a fuck-up.”

“I got fired,” Max blurted out, “from fucking _Wal-Mart_.”

Preston paused. His eyes slowly grew wide. “O-oh,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Max said. “Pikeman gave me my last check and booted my sorry ass to the curb.”

Max waited a beat for Preston to ask “why?” but the question never arose. Preston would never try to put the blame on him.

Max groaned and let his eyes slip shut, though he could still see in his head the way Preston often fiddled with his cuticles when the anxiety of uncertainty made it impossible for the actor to sit still. He imagined Preston drawing his eyebrows in and pursing his lips until they made a thin line across his face.

“It’ll be okay,” Preston said after a half-beat of rest.

“It’ll be _okay_? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m unemployed, Preston! I don’t have any money, and I still gotta pay for food. I still gotta pay for our fucking rent _._ How the _fuck_ could this all possibly be okay?”

“I’ll… I’ll take care of you until you get on your feet. It’ll be romantic,” Preston declared, though even Max could see how paper-thin his words were.

“Yeah, that’s real cute. Except we both know that you make jack-shit at your day job.”

“We’ll figure it out. I can pick up more shifts, or-,”

“No,” Max interrupted. “Just… stop, okay? You have enough shit on your plate already without having to support my burnt-out ass. I mean think of the bright side, right? This might be an opportunity for you. I won’t be a burden to you anymore, and you can find a better roommate. I’m sure one of the students in your shitty little improv group would cream their fucking pants to split costs with you.”

Max was getting hysterical now. A wide, cruel smile grew upon his face as he spat his bitterness. Preston winced.

“That’s not what I want,” Preston said, his tone short.

“Well maybe what you want isn’t fucking good for you!”

The sound of Preston’s hand coming down on the mattress made Max flinch. The actor sat up and glared at Max.

“God, you’re such a little _bitch!”_ Preston spat, exasperated. “Your self-pity is infuriating- do you realize that? Like, does it ever occur to you that I might _enjoy_ having you around? Sure, you’re the most pathetic, self-righteous, and emotionally-detached man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But you are the one singular person on this earth who’s managed to prove to me that not everyone in this world is _fucking crazy!”_

Tears started to spring up in Preston’s eyes. Max couldn’t tell if they were real or staged.

Preston sniffled, continuing his rant with the choked voice he typically saved for when he acted out tragic death scenes on the stage, “it's _okay_ to let other people take care of you sometimes. Please, Max, I can help you! Let me help.”

Max felt the last of his indignant flame extinguish into nothingness. He felt like he was choking on ashes. “Shut up, Preston. We’re not fucking boyfriends. Quit acting like you give a shit.”

There was a pause then. The kind of constipated pause that often debuted right before a game show’s Big Reveal. It was the kind of silence in which all the right thoughts became all the wrong words through a loss in translation.

Preston broke the sound of nothing with a long breath.

“Oh,” Preston said finally. “I… see.”

Max felt something stab at his chest. He winced and opened his eyes. Preston stared at him with one last brief flicker of intensity, before the light behind his gaze went cold. He ran his spider-like fingers through his hair and sighed in a final, exhausted act of defeat.

“Preston, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Look you’re-,”

“Stop,” Preston said, raising a hand. “I get it. We’re clearly not what I thought we were.”

“It’s not like that- which you’d know _if you would just fucking listen_ , I-,”

“Get a job, Max. You have one month. If you don’t have a call-back by the thirtieth, don’t expect to come home to the same locks. Understood?”

Max bit his lip. “Of course,” he relented. Something in his chest collapsed.

“Perfect. I’m glad we can agree on something.”

And with that, Preston left. There was the muffled sound of keys being jostled, the opening and closing of the front door, and eventually, a car pulling out of the drive. Max laid still- completely frozen in shock. He felt no desire to be mad in that moment. There was no intrinsic need to explode in fury or get the last word. The only thing he could feel in his chest was the gaping weight of absolute nothingness.

Max let go for a brief moment- long enough only for a single fat tear to breach the surface of his eyelids. He wiped it with his hand and sat up with a new resolve. This was the one place he’d ever felt like he belonged. He couldn't let it go.

Max needed to find a job.

With rain-soaked embers lighting his will, Max whipped out his phone and opened up an internet tab. He typed hastily into the search engine:

_“Full-Time Job Listings for High School Graduates- No Experience Required”_

Max spent about two hours dropping applications to every nearby retail store he could think of when something strange caught his eye. It was a sponsored advertisement for a familiar summer camp which seemed to be experiencing a drought of counselors.

Max shook his head in disbelief as he opened the website. His suspicions were set to rest as soon as he saw a yellow banner with the words, “CAMPE DIEM” greeting him at the top of Camp Campbell’s official website.

Max checked the job description. He’d never questioned David or Gwen much when he was a camper- but back then he hadn’t needed to. He'd never pictured that he'd be desperate enough in his mid-twenties to apply for a job as a camp counselor. Then again, there were a lot of elements to his life that he’d never pictured he’d be dealing with.

Max scanned the informational text. The job was a short stint- it would be a full-time position for a solid three months. Max eyed the pay, and his jaw dropped. Immediately, his last reservations were dispelled. God, with that kind of cash, he could afford to get he and Preston a _bigger_ apartment, with _two_ bedrooms.

Max dialed the number and fumbled with his phone as it rung.

A voice answered by the second ring. It was bubbly and energetic, and stuffed with enough optimism to make a Care-Bare choke.

“Hello, and _Campe Diem!_ My name is David, and I’m Camp Campbell’s very own head counselor. How can I help you today?

Max groaned. He debated hanging up right then, but the promise of a decent wage kept him on the hook.

“Hey, uh, David. It’s me, Max. I don’t know if you remember me, but-,”

“Oh my _goodness!”_ David’s voice pierced the receiver so loudly that Max had to jerk the phone away from his ear. _“Max?_ Is that really you? You sound so mature! What a pleasant surprise! How have you been?”

Max was already getting a migraine. He could almost see the exclamation points in David's speech. His finger threatened to cancel the call. But his eye caught something in the corner of the room- one of Preston’s DVD cases perched upon their crappy box television- and his determination returned.

“I’m grander than a fucking piano, David,” Max said curtly. He paused for a moment to formulate his next sentence. He would off himself if _David_ of all people started taking pity on him.

Max tried to speak without connotation. “Look, I’ll get to the point. I’m out of a job, and I saw the advertisement you had up online, and-,”

“You’re hired,” David cut him off.

Max’s brow quirked. “What, really? No interview or anything? Are you fucking serious?” His heart rammed in his chest.

“Of course,” David replied. “From one Camp Campbell alumni to another, I know we’ve got to help one another out. You need a job, and I need more counselors. See, for whatever reason, the camper population has been going through the roof. Which is good, of course. But after Gwen got hired elsewhere, it’s been getting pretty rough for only one camp counselor and one Quartermaster to handle the kids. I’m sure you can imagine how crazy things usually get around here.”

Max snorted at that- crazy was one way of describing Camp Campbell.

“You probably know the camp better than almost anyone else, so I’m sure training would be no chore. And frankly, I would be absolutely ecstatic to have you back as a counselor!”

“You never fucking change, huh, David?” Max bit out. Realizing his tone, he winced. “Shit, sorry,” he added quickly, “I mean, when and where should I report?”

“Well, first you’re going to have to clean that potty-mouth of yours. You’re going to be around a lot of impressionable youngsters. Secondly, the first day of counselor orientation is this Thursday. I’ll be sending you an email with the information attached. Gosh, this is so _exciting!_ ”

“I’m thrilled,” Max deadpanned.

“That’s the spirit!”

Max exchanged emails with David without further complaint.

He wouldn’t admit it, but a sort of jumpiness had sparked in his chest. Max recognized it as the rushing ache of relief. Because though it was temporary, he had still found a job. For the next few months he was going to be _okay._

And that’s all he could’ve ever asked for.

Over the line, there was the muted sound of typing on an ancient keyboard and a few mouse clicks.

“Alright, well you’re all set up. I’ll see you Thursday. Dress sharp!”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you too,” Max said. He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before adding, “And, uh, thank you, David. You don’t know how much I need this.”

“Of course, Max,” David said, his voice gentle. He hadn’t seemed finished with his farewell, but the mechanical sound of a dial-tone interrupted him. “Oh! Looks like someone’s on the other line. Probably another applicant. Don’t worry, though- I still fully intend on seeing you at my cabin bright and early on Thursday!”

And with that, David hung up.

Max stared at his phone for a moment. As someone who was more than native to shitty strokes of luck, he felt a little jarred by the sudden and drastic turn of positive events. He felt the need to sit up a little straighter. He brushed the overgrown hair out of his eyes.

With new energy, Max pushed himself out of bed. He grabbed his wallet, his keys, and his last Wal-Mart paycheck, and walked out the front door.

He had places to go- first to the bank, and then to get a haircut.


	2. Max Sings in the Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Sexual References  
> -Depictions of Depression  
> -Alcohol Use  
> -Unwarranted PDA  
> -Some Sexual Content

Max Sings in the Car

“You’ve prepared adequately? Full gas tank? Two forms of identification? Change for the highway tolls?”

“Christ, Preston. It’s only orientation. Put your panties back on and chill the fuck out, okay? Like I said, I don’t have to actually move in until Sunday. I promise, I’ll be back in this shitty hellhole of an apartment by tonight,” Max snapped.

Preston winced and bit his lower lip.

Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” Max said flatly, “Our apartment isn’t a shitty hellhole. It’s a hellhole that’s full of love and mutual respect. Happy?”

“Quite fine,” Preston said, managing to crack a wobbly smile.

Preston looked as if he wanted to settle a hand over Max’s, but paused as though he’d thought better of himself. He ran his nails against his knuckles with an awkward reluctance.

Max frowned. Though the topsoil of his hostility had been washed away since their fight three days ago, Preston was making it painfully evident that the rest of the earth’s crust was still chock-full of unresolved conflict. It was clear that the actor hadn’t fully gotten over some of the words that had been tossed around between them.

But for the sake that they would soon be separated for the first time since Preston’s theater class performed in New York, there was an active effort to be made towards leaving on a good note.

Preston looked at Max before gingerly reaching forward to fix the collar of his button-up. “I still find it ironic that out of all of us, it’s you who’s returning to Camp Campbell.”

“Don’t remind me,” Max grumbled.

If he were less of a cynic, the complete irony of his current situation might have humored him. But frankly, Max just found it _sad_ that he had been forced to stoop to such levels of desperation.

Preston held Max’s shoulders at arms’ length. He smiled, and Max caught a glimmer of the old warmth he’d become so accustomed to seeing behind Preston’s gaze. Max had always thought that the affection in Preston’s eyes had been his default expression. Only recently was he beginning to see that it was more of an exclusive show.

“Drive safely,” Preston said.

Max snorted. “I will. You think I’d give our Highway Patrol the sick pleasure of using my mangled corpse as a future driver’s ED lesson?”

“Over your dead body, right?” Preston snickered.

Max felt some pride over his ability to make the man laugh. “Over my dead body,” he asserted.

When the noise between them died down, Max and Preston both stood there for a moment, unsure of whether they should close the gap between them (or an even more perplexing issue: _how_ that gap should be closed). Suddenly, the scenery around them became far too loud, and all Max could find himself focusing on was the light rush of wind in the trees, and the glare of the morning sun.

Preston broke out of his stupor and let go of Max. He settled his hands behind his back and stared at the gravel beneath his shoes.

“So, ah, what time did you expect to be home again?” he asked, his voice breaking out of his throat as if it had somehow gotten caught on something along the way.

Max shrugged. “Well, orientation goes until six, so probably about nine or ten. Why, do you have morning classes or something tomorrow?”

“No,” Preston assured him. “You won’t have to come in more quietly than necessary.”

“Good to know,” Max said. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

And with that, he was off. He forced himself into his sedan, and pulled out of the driveway without looking back.

Concrete jungles like the town Max lived in always seemed to be alive- and mornings were no exception to this rule. Max tried his best to focus on weaving between the equally irritated drivers around him as he navigated his route to the highway.

Something nagged at him, though. It was as if someone had played seven notes of an octave, and had left before touching the eighth. It was a nagging incompleteness that bit at his psyche.

Max wondered if he should have given Preston something more before he left; a better goodbye, or perhaps a quick squeeze of his palm. But it was too late to worry about it now. Max boarded the on-ramp and pushed his foot down on the gas.

Camp Campbell was just far enough for Max’s iPod playlist to start repeating songs- though at the same time, it remained close enough to be a cold reminder that Max had failed epically in his dreams to escape his hometown.

The camp fell at a wooded junction that connected the bustling urban city with the shambling rural towns bordering the state’s edge. It was an easy plot of land to miss- Lake Lilac actually covered a very small surface area- but Max could have driven there with his eyes shut.

By the second run of West Side Story’s _Maria,_ Max had arrived. As he rolled down the familiar dirt path leading up to Camp Campbell, Max switched off his radio and reached into his car’s console, cracking open a cough drop to ease his strained throat.

Recalling where the old camp-mobile had always been stationed, Max pulled around to the clearing behind the counselor’s office, and parked.

Max took in a deep breath. He straightened his shirt, and brushed his newly-trimmed hair back. Once he was satisfied, he locked his car and stepped out into the camp grounds.

The humid smell hit him first. The air reeked of wet dirt, soaked by the morning dew. Max’s shoes sunk into the damp ground. Above him, the trees hummed with a rag-tag orchestra of insects. A few birds taunted him from the clear, pale sky.

Max took a moment to breathe in the silent air before finally making his way to the counselor’s office and knocking on the heavy wooden door.

He’d hardly gotten a third knock in when the door swung open, and Max was greeted with a smile so wide, it split the face of its wearer nearly in half.

“Max! Gosh, I’m so glad to see you! You’ve grown so much!” David marveled.

“I’ve grown in every way except vertically,” Max joked dryly. It was painful to discover that he still had to crane his neck a bit to meet David’s eyes.

“That’s very true.” David laughed. “So, how was the drive?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Max said between his teeth.                                                                                                                 

“Language, Max!”

“Do you see any goddamned campers around?” Max asked incredulously.

“No,” David admitted, “But it’s never too late to start a good habit!”

Max offered David the most of a humorless laugh. “Whatever you say, Camp Man.”

The past ten years had aged well on David. Since Max’s final year as a camper, the upbeat counselor had grown a short, neatly-groomed beard, and had lost an inch or so of his hairline. Crow’s feet, laugh lines, and stress wrinkles had been etched into David’s skin like a historical record of every emotion he’d ever experienced.

David slung an arm around Max’s shoulders, walking them both to the center of the camp. Max growled and shoved him away with a curt, “Touch me again, and I’m resigning.”

“Sorry. But let’s make our way to the mess hall, shall we? The other two are already waiting there for us.”

“I’m sorry- _other two?_ ”

“Yeppers! Two more applicants called right after you. And, well, you know me. I just couldn’t say no,” David explained.

“Christ,” Max groaned. Visions of the next three months of his life surrounded by people just as grossly energetic as David flashed in his brain. “I think I’m going to need an Ibuprofen, David.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m sure you’ll get along with them just fine,” David said with a knowing smile.

As they both approached the mess hall, Max’s eyes narrowed.

The building looked eerily untouched. Not a single board looked rotted, nor a single slab of paint chipped. It was as if the old structure had been replaced piece-by-piece with a perfect replica. Max’s brows knit as he gripped the sleek steel door handle and shouldered the non-squeaking doors open.

“Jesus, this is weird,” Max murmured, eyes scanning the mess hall.

The lights glowed a fluorescent, clinical white (they had always shone a dirty yellow before), and the cedar tables glistened with a new finish. There were no stains on the walls, and no duct-tape holding the window panes in place. Even the fan in the center of the room that Space Kid used to tie himself up on now stood rigid with unbent blades.

A projector screen had replaced the old box television in the center of the room, and sitting at a table next to it, a young man and woman were frozen in shock.

It took Max all of ten seconds to realize they were staring at him.

The man, a lanky figure with a messy brown heap of curls on his head and big bovine eyes, spoke first. “This is unprecedented… you can’t be-,”

The girl besides him jumped up without further hesitation, vaulting over the table and bounding across the room. “Max!”

Muscular arms wrapped around Max’s waist, and a head of dyed teal hair invaded his line of sight. Max coughed, pushing the girl away from him in an attempt to free himself of her bone-crushing embrace. Her name came to him as if it had never been lost in the first place.

“Shit, Nikki, since when did you get so fucking strong?” Max heaved.

Nikki brandished a toothy grin. “Since five years of professional rugby!”

“Jesus, that hurt like a bitch,” Max grumbled, rubbing the pain out of his arms.

“Sorry! I got excited,” Nikki laughed. “I mean, can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in _forever_. Especially after you blew your last year of camp and fell of the face of the earth. Neil and I were pretty convinced that you like, _died_ or something.”

“Yeah,” Neil said.

Max blinked twice, finding it nearly impossible to recognize the man who had once been his childhood best friend. Age had taken far more liberties with Neil than it had with Nikki. His eyes were more deep-set, and his jaw firmer. Stubble had grown on his chin in patches, and his cheeks were full and healthy.

Of course, he still looked like a nerd. But compared with Max’s last memory of Neil, the man sitting in front of him might as well have been Rambo.

Neil caught Max’s gaze and grimaced. “I can’t imagine what horrific tragedy must’ve have happened to bring _you_ back to camp.”

“Shit happens,” Max shrugged, feeling almost on edge with Neil’s unrelenting stare burning into him. “All that matters is that I’m back in this hellhole now.”

“You certainly are!” Nikki grinned, leading Max to their table. If she noticed the tension between the two men, she didn’t show it. “Want me to grab you some coffee, Max?”

“Sure. Black,” Max said.

Nikki obliged, walking to the coffee machine and topping her mug back off with the lukewarm pot before dumping the rest of the stale liquid down the drain to start a new batch.

“So, Max- how have you been?” Neil asked. His tone had an edge to it, like it was a mosquito attempting to get under Max’s skin undetected.

“The fuck do you care?” Max asked.

“Well, considering you disappeared for ten years without contact, I figured some small talk couldn’t hurt,” Neil bit back. “You know, so we can start filling the gaping hole of your decade-long unannounced absence.”

“Jesus. Fair enough,” Max winced. He drew his lips into a fine line and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So do you remember Preston Goodplay? That weird guy who was in theater camp back when we were kids? Well, I’ve been living with him for the past while.”

Neil quirked a brow in distaste. “You’re living with _Preston?_ How on earth did that happen? Didn’t you hate him when we were kids?”

“Oh, believe me: he still drives me up the fucking wall. But I mean, I’ve learned how to tolerate his existence,” Max said.

“So what- are you guys like-,”

“We’re roommates,” Max interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Someone’s defensive,” Nikki sang as she returned to the bench with Max’s coffee. “So how long have you two been rooming? A few months?”

Max shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee and relishing the scalding liquid as it coursed down his throat. He’d always liked his coffee fresh.

“Shit, I don’t know,” he said. “I think we’re coming on eight years now? I can’t fucking remember. It’s just a shitty one-bedroom apartment. Nothing too special.”

“Wait, hold up-,” Nikki sputtered. _“Eight years?”_

“Yeah, give or take,” Max frowned. “Why?”

Neil and Nikki exchanged a look.

Nikki looked as if she wanted to take the conversation further, but they were all cut off by the sound of a projector whirring to life. David shot the lights, and started the training video.

“Alright, counselors! Pay attention, and have some questions for me when the video ends,” David instructed.

Max rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it counterproductive to expect us to have questions after the video? I mean, that’s what the video is for, right? To answer our ques-,”

“Shut up! It’s starting,” Nikki hissed.

Max shot her a sideways look, but added nothing more to his rant save for a soft grumble.

The video was everything Max expected it to be. It mostly covered the basic surface information about camp upkeep and emergency medical procedures. Most of it was stuff Max had already known thanks to his long run as a camper.

In fact, the only bit of new information to catch his attention was a brief tribute that played after the credits. It displayed an old image of Cameron Campbell performing the Camp Campbell salute in front of a green-screened American flag background. White text beneath it read, “IN LOVING MEMORY OF”.

And then the music cut, and the blinding mess hall lights flickered back to life.

“That last part always gets to me,” David said fondly, swiping a tear from his eye.

“Holy shit- Cameron Campbell is _dead_?” Neil blinked. “When the hell did that happen?”

David shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I personally prefer the term _passed on_ , but our beloved Mr. Campbell left us just about two summers ago.” He plastered a confident smile on his face and set his hands on his hips. “But no worries! So far, I think I’ve been doing a bang-up job of filling his size-fourteen shoes!”

“Wait, wait- you _own_ this place now?” Max’s eyebrows shot up.

“You bet!” David said. “Camp Campbell and all its assets are completely in my possession! Isn’t it a dream come true?”

“Oh, it’s fucking precious is what it is,” Max sneered.

“It sure is, Max. And I’m also sure you’ll be pleased to know that I have every intention of making this camp as amazing of an experience as when I was kid! So come Saturday, I’ll be expecting nothing but the best behavior from my counselors. _Including_ watching how we speak. Are we _clear_ , Max?”

Max held back a curse. “Crystal,” he ground out.

“Great! Now let me show you three around. While I’m confident you know the layout of this place like the backs of your hands, I did make some renovations that I’d like the show you,” David said, gesturing towards the mess hall doors.

David led them out, walking them back towards the counselor’s office. The four followed a dirt trail behind it that led back to another, smaller clearing where two cabins and a large washroom sat. Though the sides were lined with ivy, Max could tell that the buildings were just as fresh as the repaired mess hall.

“These are the counselor cabins. Max, Neil, you’ll be rooming with me in the cabin to our left. Nikki, you’ll be sleeping in the cabin to the right,” David explained.

“Are you kidding me? She gets her own? How is that fair?” Max furrowed his brow.

“I’m not a little kid anymore, _Maxwell,_ ” Nikki said with a playful glint in her eye. When the implications of her words fell on deaf ears, Nikki released an exaggerated sigh and opted for the much more direct rout of gesturing to her chest.

Max went red as the realization hit him, and he turned away with a sour expression on his face. “Fine, whatever,” he coughed out.

Nikki cackled.

“Come on, counselors! Don’t be nervous to make yourselves at home!” David said, gesturing towards the cabins. “Go ahead! Explore your new space.”

Max let Neil take the lead as they were guided into their living quarters.

The boys’ cabin was relatively small, but still spacious to be equipped with four beds. Each bed possessed a footlocker and a built-in dresser drawer underneath. A frail looking table set was pushed off to the side underneath a computer screen that had been repurposed into a small television and mounted to the wall. Board games and playing cards that looked like they dated back to the late 1990’s were stacked high upon a stained teak bookshelf.

“You can go ahead and claim a bunk now, if you’d like,” David offered. “Mine is the one on the far left.”

Max peered about the beds, and finding that the one right next to David’s had an outlet hidden behind the headboard, made fast to set his hand down on the mattress. “This one’s mine,” he announced.

Neil nodded. He opted then to skip the bunk besides Max’s and take the one closest to the door.

“Great!” David said, satisfied. “And of course- feel free to bring whatever you’d like to decorate the wall-space above your headboard with. Just because we’re miles away from home doesn’t mean we have to be homesick!”

Max couldn’t imagine having any _wall décor_ David would approve of. Hell, the only remote decoration he’d taken ownership of since he started living with Preston was an old magazine pinup of a busty woman in a bikini splayed out over the red hood of a Mustang.

Even Preston found Angeline (that’s what Max had named her) absolutely tasteless. Max couldn’t imagine David allowing such pornography anywhere near the young impressionable minds of his campers.

After they’d gotten acquainted with their living space, David continued back on his tour of the camp.

They walked around the camper’s tents (which had somehow become even more cramped with the increasing camp population), hiked across the amphitheater and canoe docks, and ended their tour at the activities area.

The activities field seemed to be the most foreign part of the renovated camp. A large pavilion where the science and theater camps used to be was stocked with benches and a variety of scientific tools, and a rock wall decorated the backs of a repaired half-pipe for the extreme sports camp. A basketball court stood in the middle of the field where they had previously dumped their miscellaneous sports equipment, and the old garden plot had been moved in order to line the back of the mess hall.

“This place looks really fixed up, David,” Neil observed. He wandered over to the science camp pavilion and picked up a brightly painted microscope. “I mean, the equipment is rudimentary- toy store level, at best- but it’s damn well better than what I remember it being.”

David beamed at the compliment. “I did some work,” he said with an air of faux-modesty.

“How the hell did you pay for all of this?” Max asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.

David bit his lip and averted his eyes. “Well, Mr. Campbell didn’t exactly have a will prepared when he passed, and somehow had no known relatives. So after the lawsuits were processed, I managed to get the rest of the money funneled back into Camp Campbell under a legacy claim. So I’ve had more than enough capital to fix things up a bit.”

“And to support your doubled work staff?” Max pressed.

“Don’t you worry about your paycheck, Max. I’ll have them deposited directly to your bank bi-weekly as promised,” David assured him.

“You better.”

David sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I will. Now come on- our dear Quartermaster has prepared us lunch. I’m sure you three remember him?”

“He’s still _alive_?” Neil asked, appalled.

“Don’t act so shocked, Neil! He hasn’t aged a day. But he says he’s going to retire soon. He mentioned something about winning an inheritance and not needing the money anymore.”

Max and Nikki shared a look before reluctantly following David to the mess hall.

David was right- the Quartermaster really _hadn’t_ aged. Max tried to search the old groundkeeper’s gruff expression for any sign that he’d grayed at all over the past decade, but he only came out fruitless and confused.

“Hey, QM,” Max said, trying his best to look friendly. “What’s for lunch?”

The Quartermaster seemed to have a sparkle in his eye as he said, “It is a _mystery_.”

“Right,” Max grimaced. He gingerly grabbed his tray of what appeared to be discolored chicken and rice, and sat down at one of the benches.

“Man, I’m starved,” Nikki grinned, sitting next to Max.

“Just _how_ starved are you?” Neil asked, holding his meal away from himself as if fearing the possibility of it gaining sentience and attacking him.

Nikki’s eyes sparkled at the offer. “Pile it on!” she said with an encouraging laugh.

Max and Neil exchanged a wary look before forking both of their tray’s contents onto Nikki’s plate. She thanked them before diving in, tearing into the hardly edible food with huge wolfish bites.

David cracked a smile, “Alright, counselors. I’m going to go process your paperwork, and then I’ll be right back.”

“Take all the time you need!” Max snapped.

Once the mess hall door closed, Nikki’s fork scraping against the plastic lunch tray became the only noise in the room.

“Well, this is certainly odd,” Neil finally said. “I mean, the statistical chances of us all being here at the same time-,”

“Shut it, nerd,” Max grumbled. “Look, I’m not going to lie or anything- you and Nik are the last people I’d expect to be stuck back at this dump. But if I had to be sharing my cabin space with anyone, I’d strongly prefer you two assholes over another _David._ If I were you, I’d be counting my blessings.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I would totally pray to see _you_ again,” he snorted, his voice full of bitter sarcasm.

 “Fuck, what is your _deal_?” Max snapped. “You’ve been acting like a little bitch since I walked in. How the fuck could I have possibly wronged you in the literal three hours we’ve been around each other today?”

“You’re a real jackass, Max- you know that?”

“You want to see a jackass, bitch?”

“Try me!”

The sound of a fist slamming against the table’s surface jolted Max and Neil into silence. Between them, Nikki glared hard. “How ‘bout both of you shut up? We’ve got an entire summer to hash this junk out. I get that these aren’t exactly the best circumstances to have a reunion, but unfortunately that’s not something we have any power over. I’m not saying you guys have to act like nothing’s happened between you, but can you at least _try_ to be civil?”

There was a tense moment of silence. And then, Max sighed.

“Whatever.”

After lunch, David took it upon himself to show them a handful of miscellaneous practices. He showed them where the pantry keys and first aid kits were located, how to perform the Heimlich, and how to use a fire extinguisher. Max hardly paid attention at all, too preoccupied with the feeling of Neil’s eyes stabbing daggers into the back of his head.

As their day came to an end, David brought them back to the counselor’s office and presented them each with a set of official Camp Campbell counselor uniforms.

Max sighed mournfully as he examined his green print tee. “God, this must be how Gwen felt on her first day.”

“Oh, come now. These shirts are symbolic of the unity between our Camp leaders! I’m sure they’ll grow on you,” David grinned, brandishing his own faded tee with pride upon his chest.

“Don’t count on it,” Max said dryly.

David bit the inside of his cheek. “Actually Max, before our orientation comes to a close, I’d like to have a word with you.”

Max felt his skin go clammy. “A-about what?”

“Follow me,” David ordered, stepping out of the counselor’s office.

Max nodded, and complied without a word. As soon as he shut the door behind them, David spoke up.

“Now, Max. I don’t want to seem intrusive or anything, but I was reading through the medical forms you gave me and it said that you take prescription medication. Is that correct?”

“Oh, shit. Look, I swear, it’s nothing serious. Just, like, anti-depressants and crap like that,” Max blurted out.

“Don’t worry, I understand. It’s quite alright. I promise, this isn’t a deal-breaker at all for your position. In fact, Gwen had to go through a similar process when she worked here. You’ll just have to check the medicine in through me. We’ll need to have it locked up so that none of the children can get into it by accident,” David assured him.

Max breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, yeah. That’s fine.”

As soon as the clock struck six, Max had already signed out, and was halfway to his car. He’d asked Nikki and Neil where they would be staying, only to find that they would both be sleeping at Camp Campbell instead of going back to their homes.

When he’d given them a questioning look, Neil had only shrugged. “We both live far away. It would be counterproductive.”

Max took that information like a dry-swallowed pill, got into his sedan, and pulled away fast enough for his tires to crop up dust clouds.

When he arrived back home to his apartment, the lights were off. Max kicked off his shoes haphazardly in front of the door, and unbuttoned his shirt, flinging the thin flannel over the back of his couch.

Max turned on a few lights, letting the warm artificial glow banish the icy feeling of emptiness locked within the apartment drywall. He trudged to the kitchen, only to find a yellow sticky-note posted to the freezer door. Max squinted, trying his best to transcribe Preston’s dyslexic handwriting into anything comprehensible.

GONE OUT. DINNER’S IN FRIDGE. DON’T STAY UP FOR ME- WON’T BE BACK UNTIL LATE.

Max scoffed. For all his pickiness in eating, Preston was an awful cook. Max opened the fridge and chuckled lowly to himself as he pulled out a prepared bowl of soggy whole-wheat pasta and store-bought tomato sauce.

Max contemplated heating up a frozen TV dinner, but his rumbling stomach reminded him that he was too hungry to have such standards.

Max didn’t even throw his plate into the microwave. He took the cold pasta to the dining table, and despite the ache in his stomach, ate slowly.

Preston stumbled in drunk at 3 AM.

Max glanced up from his plate of half-finished spaghetti and blinked. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d stayed up so late.

“Why are all the lights on- _shit!_ ” Preston tripped over Max’s shoes and crashed against the floor.

“Jesus, Preston!” Max rushed forward, kneeling next to his intoxicated roommate. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re going to wake up the assholes downstairs. Fuck, come on- get up.”

“Max?” Preston questioned, his voice foggy and thick with condensation. “What on earth are you doing awake? I thought I said… I thought I told you not to stay up for me. In the note. Could you not read the note?”

“Chill it. I didn’t even notice the time. Now let’s get you to bed before you give yourself a concussion. God, how fucking drunk _are_ you?”

“Drunk? Me?” Preston broke out into a fit of hiccupped laughter. “That is such a rousing observation Maxwell. You always pay such good attention to detail.”

“Christ, did you fucking drive home like this?” Max asked, kicking the door behind him shut and turning off the lamp.

“No I did not. Drive home, that is. A friend drove me.”

“How comforting,” Max said through his teeth. “Let’s go, dude. Can you walk?”

“I can!” Preston announced. Max curled his lips up in amusement as he watched Preston struggle to his feet.

“You look like a fucking newborn deer,” Max smirked. “Come here.”

Preston obeyed without hesitation, falling into Max’s arms eagerly. Max doubled back under the sudden weight, but quickly rebalanced himself. He ducked down to steady his shoulder against Preston’s hip before standing straight up again and slinging Preston over his back.

Despite Preston’s lack of body fat, the man wasn’t nearly as light as Max had pictured him to be. Thankfully, after he’d positioned Preston correctly, carrying the man became more of a balancing act than a feat of strength.

“You fucking… you just fucking swept me off my feet,” Preston half-slurred, half-sang. “You’re so romantic.”

“I forgot. You’re a flirty drunk,” Max groaned. “I should’ve left you on the fucking floor.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Preston gasped.

“Oh, I would.”

Max walked them both into their shared bedroom, leaning forward and dumping Preston onto the bed. He winced and rolled his shoulder, glad to be free of Preston’s dead weight.

Max sat down besides Preston on the bed and helped the unsteady man rid himself of his jacket and boots. His fingers brushed the warm skin on Preston’s arms as he pulled off Preston’s coat sleeves, causing the actor to release a bubbly laugh.

“Forward, are we?”

“Shut up,” Max spat. “And don’t think I’m going to help you with your jeans. I’ll bring you your flannels, but that’s where I draw the proverbial line for the gay shit I’m willing to put up with today.”

Preston shrugged. “Denim is comfy to sleep in anyways.”

Preston stared at Max for a moment with an unreadable expression before slipping his arms around Max’s neck and drawing their faces close. Max flinched in surprise at the unwarned contact and swallowed hard. He could smell the draft beer and smoke in Preston’s breath.

“I love your eyes,” Preston said.

“Preston, that’s fucking gay,” Max retorted.

Preston tilted his head back and laughed. “Now, Maxwell, are we stating facts, or are you trying to insult me? Because I’ll have you fucking know that I’ve been participating in theater for the past… the past _lot of fucking years_ , and the homophobic slurs are honestly just beating the dead horse these days.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

He moved to pull back, only to find that Preston was holding to him fast. Max felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.

Once the initial humor wore off, Max often found that he possessed a deep hatred for drunken people. They were too unpredictable and dangerous, and they often did awful, regrettable things. And worst of all- when they finally did sober, they had a habit of blaming their actions on the alcohol entirely, as if their 86-proof whiskey had stood them up with a gun to their head, and had forced them to leave their bruises.

As the weight of his situation finally hit him, panic began to rise in Max’s chest like steam in a teapot. He wondered if he was catching a fever as he felt his face heat up and his throat run dry.

Max suppressed his memories of blacks and blues as Preston nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Seriously, Max. Your eyes are just… wow. Fuck the torches, they doth teach the _forests_ to grow _green._ ”

“Preston, stop,” Max warned. If he were any less on edge, he would’ve made a quip about how completely overrated Romeo and Juliet was.

“Don’t be like that. Come and lay with me. I’m freezing.”

“Let me go,” Max protested.

“Fine,” Preston huffed. He let his hold of Max slacken just enough to offer some breathing space between them. “But before I let you run off, can you tell me something?”

Desperate to be out of Preston’s grip, Max nodded. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“What I want to know is what you find so _morbidly_ unlovable about me,” Preston answered bitterly.

“Wait, wait- what? Jesus, Preston. You’re drunker than my racist uncle gets at Thanksgiving. I’m not having this discussion with you.”

Preston made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “Max, I’m being both sober and serious,” he drawled.

Max scoffed. “Sober my ass-,”

Preston suddenly pulled back hard, yanking Max into the bed. Max yelped as he flipped over Preston and landed with a painful _thunk_ on his side of the cheap box-spring.

“Shit, Preston!” Max cursed, “What the fu-,”

Preston cut Max off. “I am speaking, Maxwell!” He snapped.

“Preston, I’m leaving-,”

“Not yet!” Preston shot up and rolled over so that his body pinned Max’s down. Preston settled his knees on either side of Max’s stomach and bared his teeth. “You owe me answers!”

“Because,” Preston continued, his voice leveling out again, “What I can’t figure out is how I’ve been so fucking… so utterly disillusioned for the past eight years of my life. Because I know you’re bad with like, commitments and labels and whatnot, but I thought that we were like, _something,_ you know?”

“Preston-,”

“You can’t blame me, can you? Hell, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed since before we could buy alcohol. I just thought you were emotionally repressed, or… or you had some masculinity complex you were dealing with. I had no idea that you felt _nothing_ for me,” Preston huffed, punctuating his rant with an angry laugh.

Max tried to lift his arms to push Preston away, but quickly found his wrists pinned beneath Preston’s hands. Preston gripped them hard enough for it to hurt.

“Preston, you’re acting fucking crazy,” Max spat out, forcing his voice not to shake. “Get off of me, and we can talk this shit out in the morning when you’re not shitfaced.”

“No. You have to deal with this grave you dug, bitch,” Preston hissed.

“Jesus Christ. Look, no offense to myself, but why the fuck do you even _want_ to be in a relationship with me? I’m fucking awful. I’m a burnt-out piece of shit with absolutely no future or decent qualities.” Max squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath.

“You are,” Preston agreed solemnly. “But I guess it’s validating to know that… like, someone who hates everything and everyone has a soft spot for you. It makes you feel special.”

Max’s eyes shot open. He balled his fists and clenched his jaw. “Oh, so you never actually even liked anything about me?” he yelled. “What, am I just your fucking ego boost or something? That’s some twisted fucking shit, Preston!”

Max mentally punched himself for ever thinking that he could be important to someone. He punched himself again for ever thinking that he could be important to _Preston_.

“Wait, no- shit! That came out poorly,” Preston cursed. “Look, you’re fucking _kind_ , okay? You remember stupid shit about me, like my favorite obscure French movies, or my McDonalds breakfast order. You _care_ about me enough to humor me. I always dump this useless information on you about stuff you probably don’t give a rat’s ass about, but you listen anyways, and you make me feel like my- honestly kind of boring- interests matter. And-,” Preston broke off to laugh gently to himself. “I will _totally_ regret saying this when I’m sober, but you are literally the most gorgeous man I have ever seen without a shirt on.”

 Max blinked the emotion from his eyes. He took a heavy breath, and found that it shook when he exhaled. He wished he had his hands free, if only to swipe away the warm tears that were quickly bubbling over his vision.

“Preston, please let me go,” Max said in a voice so soft, he wondered if Preston could even hear him. “I want to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Don’t leave,” Preston begged. His voice sounded strangely clear, as if the murk of alcohol had momentarily left him. “Please, Max. I...”

Preston stared at Max for a moment, his glassy eyes searching Max’s face desperately for some signal that would urge him forward. He slowly tilted his head to the side and swayed a bit before killing the air between them. Max felt Preston’s hot breath on his lips.

They were so close. Max’s heart rammed in his chest, and he suddenly forgot how to breathe in. He slammed his eyes shut.

But nothing happened.

Max blinked. Above him, Preston had moved back several inches. He could see the whites of Preston’s eyes- even in the dim lighting of their bedroom.

“Shit,” Preston whispered, looking as if he’d been shocked into sobriety. “Max, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-,”

Max felt Preston’s hold of his wrists loosen, and took his opportunity. He ripped his hands free and pushed off against Preston’s chest, sending them both in opposite directions. Max landed on the floor hard. His head smashed against the wall behind him, and he clutched the back of it, cursing.

“Max, oh my god! Are you okay?” Preston yelped. He sat up and reached forward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-,”

Max flattened himself to the wall. “I’m fucking fine! Leave me the hell alone,” he snarled, feeling his breath quicken in his dry throat. He looked like a terrified wild animal.

“Max, I’m sorry! I-,” Preston yelled. His emotions exploded like a prison riot in his throat, and the three words that he had always kept locked away finally managed to break free of their bonds and tumble past his lips: “-I love you!”

Max’s eyes flashed. “Don’t say that!” he roared. Weaker, he repeated, “Don’t you _ever_ fucking say that to me.”

Preston flinched and the world went silent. Max’s heavy breathing, and the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears were the only audible noises. Max choked down the start of a sob.

“Go to sleep, Preston,” Max said, his voice breaking in and out like a poor radio signal. His shoulders sagged, heavy with defeat.

Max held onto the wall for support as he picked himself off the floor. He forced himself to walk calmly as he made his way to the living room and let his body crash onto the couch. As soon as Max hit the soft cushions, he broke down. His lungs crumpled like aluminum cans under the sudden pressure release of his own held breath.

Max bit the inside of his cheek and pressed his fingers to his temples. His head pounded.

Preston’s words skipped over and over in Max’s brain like a broken record.

_“I love you.”_

Max felt sick as he replayed the sound of Preston’s voice in his head. Fear clogged his throat like a clump of hair in the shower drain.

Because Preston was a meteoroid and Max was the atmosphere. And if Preston ever somehow got too close, he would inevitably burn up into nothingness. And Max would never allow Preston to destroy himself in that way.

Max wrapped his arms around his body tightly, as if it might somehow shrink the range of his gravitational pull and finally push Preston out of his orbit.

And eventually, he slept- dreaming of nothing but the tragically short lives of shooting stars.

* * *

 

The morning came quickly for Max, and when the first streaks of early light passed through the apartment windows, Max had already been well-awake and prepared to care for Preston’s inevitable hangover. He gingerly pressed a few pills and a Gatorade he’d picked up from the local 7-11 into Preston’s hand.

Preston tipped the bottle back, taking his medication in a single swig.

He sighed thankfully, offering a brief and exhausted smile to Max.

“You’re far too good for me,” he said.

Max didn’t reply. He sat with his legs crossed at the foot of their bed and played idly with his thumbs, his tired eyes drifting towards Preston as the hungover man did his best to sip at the sports drink. Max had to laugh- Preston looked like he’d been caught somewhere in the middle of an earthquake and a tornado.

His long chestnut hair was a tangled rat’s nest of flyways and loose clumps, and the bags under his eyes looked as if they were packing for a 7-day trip.  His shirt fell off his shoulder, and rode halfway up his stomach.

He looked like an absolute mess. Max thought it was perfect.

“I’m sorry for what I did last night,” Preston said, breaking the tranquil silence. A humorless laugh left him and plummeted through the air like an iron-cast weight. “Honestly, it’s kind of a blur. But I have a feeling that I may have gotten carried away in my drunken state.”

“It’s no big deal. Chill,” Max dismissed, though he ground his teeth as he spoke.

“It _is_ a big deal, Max. I shouldn’t have come on to you. I knew that you didn’t want me, and I still acted on my pathetic feelings.”

Preston smiled sadly and wiped at his eyes with the base of his palm. Max looked down, feeling something in his resolve crack. That resigned expression looked so _wrong_ on Preston. It was insecure, and self-loathing, and full of regrets. It was Max’s signature expression, and seeing it on Preston’s face made Max feel like someone had tied a barbed wire around his heart and pulled it taut.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” Max huffed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay? And if I were any less of a fucking failure, maybe I’d let myself entertain the thought of being with you. But hell, I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to feel that kind of affection.”

“You’re not a failure, Max,” Preston said sternly. “You’re twenty-four. You don’t have to have your life together."

“No, but it shouldn’t be falling apart this badly either,” Max countered.

Neither of them said a word, because both of them knew that it was true. Preston pursed his lips and looked away. Max couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

Max cracked a small smile. “We’ve got some big-ass fucking problems between us, Don’t we?” Max sighed and looked at his hands, “Look, I want to get better. I want to be the kind of person that would be good for you. So then maybe one day I can like, deserve you or whatever.”

Preston shook his head and let a weak laugh pass through his lips. “That’s awfully _gay_ , Max.”

“Don’t be a fucking homophobe,” Max retorted with a grin, his usual snarky tone once again present.

Max paused to breathe for a moment before speaking up again, “but seriously- I’m thinking that maybe some time apart will be good for us. We can learn how to live without one another for once in our fucking lives and we’ll have the time and space we need to figure this shit out.”

Preston grinned, and Max caught a glimmer of life flicker in his piercing eyes. “Do I at least get a good farewell?”

“You might,” Max said with the kind of grin one might even refer to as _charming._

Max felt his heart pick up. In his entire life, he had never possessed the urge to kiss another person. He’d even found the idea somewhat repulsive at times. But right then, sitting next to his wreck of a roommate in the early morning sunlight, Max couldn’t deny that the space between them demanded to be closed.

Unfortunately, Max had always been the rebellious type.

But though he refused to fall completely to the undefeatable tug in his gut, the force still begged him to compromise. And so for the first time, it was his hand reaching out to grab Preston’s. Max laced their fingers together firmly, and found himself laughing at Preston’s delightfully shocked expression. 

And as he sat there, wondering how he would ever possibly let Preston go again after this, he heard the birds outside calling to him.

And suddenly, the world seemed big again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who left a review, a bookmark, a kudos, and a read! I did not at all expect this to be so well received, and it honestly means the world!
> 
> So a big shout-out to everyone who commented: addendum, Michael, Cocoacandycorn, mint, B., Maddie, WellFuckItsYaoi, Carimus, anon, MiacChiaFromKorea, hpd_Jance, werewolfxqueen, VeryFluffyFluff, Bonnie, Nameless, 7HotChocat1, unattainabelle, and YOOOO. 
> 
> And a special thanks to @breaddiscourseblog on Tumblr for drawing some amazing fanart, which you can check out here!: http://breaddiscourseblog.tumblr.com/post/164080836896
> 
> If you ever want to show me something cool, I follow "#the sparrow still sings" on Tumblr! Or you can just tag me, "@max-as-hell"!


	3. David Remembers Jasper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:   
> -Offensive Language  
> -Depictions of Depression  
> -Depictions of Trauma  
> -Minor Violence  
> -References to Alcohol  
> -Excessive Angst

David Remembers Jasper

The amount of bullshit that Max had been prepared to handle on the first official day of camp had almost boiled over even before the campers’ bus had arrived.

Max ran a stiff hand through his ratty hair in a weak attempt to comb it down as he nursed the morning’s second cup of coffee like expensive liquor. He groaned and rubbed his temples. For the first time in the last five years, Max had forgotten to take his medication, and now his head felt like a magnitude-eight earthquake.

To his credit, he had always been somewhat a creature of habit, and the new process of signing his prescription out through David wasn’t sitting well with him.

In addition, his muscles were sore and stiff, and burning with lactic-acid-buildup. After he had moved into his cabin the day prior, David had made use of his manpower to finish the last of the necessary manual chores. And after an entire day of dragging the canoes and kayaks from the storage shed to the docks, David had dragged Max, Nikki, and Neil out on a late-night hike through the woods.

It had been an awful trek- the pitch black night fell on them about halfway through their walk, and soon, Max was only barely keeping up by the sound of dirt crunching beneath the others’ boots.

“I can’t see for shit!” Max had complained after tripping over a root and finding himself in a pit of mud. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us to bring flashlights, David?”

And David had called back in his ever-chipper voice: “I want you to know this forest like the back of your hand. You should be able to navigate this with no problem in the dark- blind, even! You have to feel sure of yourself around your new surroundings- and for goodness’ sake _\- stop looking down when you walk!”_

Max groaned in exasperation at the impractical answer, but picked himself off the dirt anyways and pushed forward without another word of protest.

And now, in the late morning light, Max could clearly see all of the bruises and scrapes he’d acquired during the hike. His legs looked like they had been dragged against sandpaper, and similar bruises could be found extending all the way up to his shoulders (he had run straight into a tree- not his finest moment).

Nikki’s eyes followed Max as he examined himself. “That walk really did you a number, huh, Max?”

“I looks like I went back to living with my folks,” Max bit back. He’d meant the concerning statement as a joke, but Neil and Nikki only gave him a brief, pitying look before dropping off the subject like an overdue library book and looking away- as if they didn’t even want to _imagine_ Max as that kind of victim.

“Are you guys excited to meet our campers?” Nikki blurted, trying desperately to change the subject.

Max could tell she was nervous in her attempts to fill the already dense air with light words- but he felt some sympathy for the fitful way that she twisted her curly bangs around her fingers and replied.

“Fuck no,” he said. “Knowing my shit luck, Karma’s going to bite me in the ass and those brats are going to be exactly as hellish as we were.”

“Language, Max!” David interrupted, popping out from behind the mess hall doors. “Our dear Quartermaster will be here at any moment with a bus full of inquiring young minds, so I’m expecting nothing but your best behavior.”

“Of course,” Max replied dryly.

“In all seriousness,” David said, pausing in his enthusiasm for just long enough to offer the three a few genuine words, “I’d like you three to really relish the quietness of this morning. Because from now on, quiet moments like this are going to be harder and harder to find.”

David chuckled gently to himself, and for a rare moment, Max saw a glimpse of weariness on his face. And then, as if it had simply been a trick of the light, the exhaustion on the older man’s expression vanished, and the burdens of his age hid back beneath his eyelids.

Max wondered if David had always looked so tired before.

He would never admit to it, but for just a second he considered David’s advice, and he allowed himself to drown in the sense of silence and nature. He sucked in the dew-damp air, and focused on the sensation of the air rushing to his lungs. Above him, the birds sang etudes in the treetops.

The bus had puttered into the clearing shortly after ten.

It looked old and beat up- as it always had- and Max felt like he was tricking himself into imagining what looked like a slight dent in the front bumper that hadn’t quite been buffed out all the way.

The bus doors opened with a loud hiss.

Emerging from the exit, the Quartermaster popped a cap of a dodgy-looking flask with his hook. “Got kids,” he announced dryly. “I’ll be back for the bus in twenty minutes.”

The Quartermaster turned to glare hard at Max. The air seemed to drop twenty degrees. “And don’t you hooligans even think of nothin’ funny. If you want them here keys, you’ll be pryin’ them from my cold, dead, hook.”

Max felt his face flush a bit. “Wouldn’t even think of it, sir,” he said with a shaky grin.

So he hadn’t imagined the dent.

Max leaned back and watched as the campers slowly filed off the bus, each holding onto a small duffel bag or suitcase of belongings (as to be expected, there were two outliers- a sandy-haired boy who held nothing but the shirt on his back, and a girl with a huge stringed-instrument carrier). When the last of them had filed out into the clearing, the crowd was a solid thirty campers thick.

Max cowboy whistled. “Shit,” he remarked. “No fucking wonder David needed all three of us.”

An elbow jabbed his ribs hard. “Quit swearing, dope!” Nikki snapped, “Unless you _want_ to get fired on your first official day.”

“Honestly? Not gonna lie- seems pretty tempting right about now,” Max remarked. Despite, he mentally reminded himself to be more mindful of his new language restrictions.

“Alright, counselors. Focus now. Be ready to introduce yourself just like we practiced when I give the word,” David instructed in a hushed tone. With that said he smiled wide and bounded out to greet his new campers.

He eagerly performed the Camp Campbell salute and scanned the new crowd. Already, his eyes seemed so full of pride for the new campers.  

“Hello and Campe Diem, campers! I’m David, your head counselor! And behind me are my fellow co-counselors, Neil, Nikki, and Max! We’re all super excited to have you here at our beloved Camp Campbell campgrounds! Now, I know it’s a little early and we’re all a bit tired, so how about we wake ourselves up with the official Camp Campbell greeting?”

Max groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How does he somehow get even _more_ annoying around children?”

“Breathe, Max,” Nikki said with a sympathetic grin.

“Nik, I’ve never wanted alcohol more in my life.”

Max watched with a scowl as David patiently demonstrated the Camp Campbell salute and motto to the young campers.

He was inclined to raise a brow, though: not one of the kids groaned or complained at all during the painfully idiotic ritual. In fact, they seemed to follow David’s instructions with _enthusiasm._ Some even dared to look prideful- standing straight and rigid like they belonged to their own rag-tag militia.

“Campe Diem, counselor David!” they all called in unity once they’d mastered the salute.

“That’s perfect!” David said, a soggy look of approval on his face. “Absolutely fantastic!”

Max cast a glance at Neil, who shot him one back. “Check it. They’ve got to be mixing chemicals into the water main. There’s no freaking way these kids can be so _eager_ ,” Max said.

Neil sort of half-snickered, and nodded in agreement, “with overwhelming certainty, I’d say you’re right.”

Max felt something ease in his gut. After Neil’s initial coldness towards him, it was relieving to see that he could still make the man smile.

David broke into Max’s thoughts as he spoke up again.

“Alright, campers! I’m going to step back for a moment to allow our co-counselors to introduce themselves. I’m confident you kids are going to be in good hands, because all three of our co-counselors were campers just like you once!  Co-counselors, how about you say your names, the camp you used to attend at Camp Campbell, and one interesting fact about yourselves?”

Max had to roll his eyes. He had always hated these stupid introductions. And he hated them especially this time, because he’d been forced to stretch the truth on two of the three bits of information he’d been required to give.

“I’m… My name is Neil,” Neil stammered awkwardly. He stepped forward and hung his hands up by his chest as he always did when nervous. “When I was your age, I attended the Science Camp. I’m really fascinated with studying nature and life, and I just recently graduated from Yale with a dual master’s degree in chemistry and computer sciences.”

Nikki bounced forward after him, waving cheerfully. None of the kids waved back, but a few offered her the benefit of a curious grin. “I’m Nikki! I was originally in an all-girl’s camp before coming to Camp Campbell for Adventure camp! And I’ve been all around the world- I toured constantly when I played professional rugby.”

Max rolled his eyes. Both Nikki and Neil could’ve plagiarized their introductions straight from a Tinder profile.

He didn’t even attempt to kick away from the wall he was leaning on- opting instead to raise his hand in a lazy half-wave. “Max,” he introduced himself curtly. “My camp was the camp that kids go to when their parents don’t want to deal with them for three months.”

His smart remark earned him a few muffled giggles from the audience of children, but David seemed less than amused. Max snickered.

“Sorry, sorry- joking. But yeah, I was never really in any singular camp, so I sort of just did it all.”

It was then that Max noticed the deep brown eyes staring hard at him from dead center in the crowd. They belonged to a teenage boy with sandy hair and an intense scowl. Max locked eyes with the boy, and forgot suddenly that he was to be speaking.

“And do you want to tell the campers your fun fact, Max?” David prompted, jostling Max from his stupor.

Max forced his gaze away, and somehow felt even less motivated to speak.

As an achiever of little else other than unknowingly playing with people’s emotions and getting fired from entry-level jobs for committing petty crimes, he hadn’t much to offer for his fun fact. His highest level of education had been the high school diploma he’d gotten by the skin of his teeth, and he’d never had a position higher than part-time.

He wasn’t smart like Neil, and he wasn’t experienced like Nikki.

For lack of better words, he was an utter failure. But of course- he couldn’t tell that to the young eyes staring upon him in anticipated wait.

“Sure, I’ll tell them a fun fact,” Max said. “I’m into music.”

“And?” David pressed.

“And… I provided the scores for an original musical that was written and performed by my roommate, who’s an actor.”

It was only a half-lie. While it was true that Preston had needed Max’s help to crank out several melodies for an experimental musical he’d been writing, neither of them had actually _composed_ the pieces- that credit went along to a friend of Preston’s who had majored in music.

“That’s awesome, co-counselor! Now, if all of you will follow me, we’re going to head into the mess hall so I can play a short orientation video.”

David marched his campers into the mess hall and dimmed the lights as they took their seats. Max plopped down on one of the foldout chairs in the back next to Neil and Nikki.

Max took his chance to check his phone before the lights had been fully shot.

“Turn that off!” Nikki scolded. “The movie’s starting!”

“It’s not a movie, Nikki. It’s an assimilation tape,” Max rolled his eyes. Still, he pocketed his phone accordingly and sat back to watch the cheesy orientation video.

Once the video had concluded, David turned the lights back on and took center stage in front of the projector screen. He pulled a clipboard up to his face. “Alrighty, campers! Now, since there are so many of you, I’ll be splitting you up between our three co-counselors here! Max, Neil, Nikki- I’m going to ask you to stand in different corners of the room. Campers, when you hear your name called, go ahead and stand by the counselor I assign you to.”

Neil and Nikki promptly followed David’s orders, parting their separate ways to occupy a corner. Max, finding that he was isolated from them anyways, found no good reason to move from his comfy metal foldout.

David raised a brow at Max, but started listing off the camper assignments without further hesitation.

Neil was first, and Max watched as each of the his campers timidly made their way over to his side of the room. They all had the same skittish demeanor, and an overwhelming percent of them wore similarly fashioned thick-rimmed glasses.

After them, David called out for Nikki’s campers- who each bounded over to her with wide smiles, big eyes, and open mouths.

And then there were only five more of them remaining- a group of oddballs with no noticeable trend in their appearance or personality. They stared at one another first, then at Max, and then finally their curious gazes rested upon David.

David cleared his throat. “When I call your name, I’d like you to take a stand besides Max back there, okay? First, Charlie.”

A small boy with overalls three sizes too large for his small body and bright, insightful eyes stood up. Strangely, his hands were several shades darker than the rest of his olive skin- though when he walked closer, Max realized that it was because they were caked in dried soil.

The second to be called was a freckled girl who insisted that she go by her last name, Derby. She had a big gap-toothed smile plastered on her face, and a mass of frizzy red hair that had been moderately tamed into a ponytail. She was covered head-to-toe in bruises and brightly colored bandages.

After her came Melody, who was easily the shortest child in her age group. She looked to be the type that might be flattened out by a gentle breeze. She shuffled her way over to Max, carrying on her back an instrument case that measured a good amount larger than her own body.

Fourth was an older teenage boy who had received the misfortune of the feminine name, Kelly. He had intense gray eyes, and walked the mess hall floor like he was imagining a balance beam beneath him. As soon as he found himself in front of Max, Kelly offered his hand. Max obliged begrudgingly, and found his fingers trapped in a bone-crushing grip.

“Call me Kel only,” the boy ordered. 

“Sure thing,” Max winced.

Finally, only one camper remained. He was a familiar boy with sandy hair and fiery brown eyes. He carried no luggage with him.

“Royce,” David called out.

Royce frowned. He stared at Max for a moment before reluctantly taking his place besides him. Max noticed then that Royce’s camp shirt was faded and had a few frayed edges.

Royce spoke up before Max could find any meaning to the washed-out shirt. “Counselor David?”

“Yes, Royce?”

“Can I switch counselors?”

A hushed murmur rippled about the room in extending rings, as if Royce had just dropped a pebble in the still water of conversation. Max narrowed his eyes at the boy, mouth ajar. He shot a helpless glace to Neil and Nikki, who both only offered him a snicker and a look of sympathy.

“P-pardon?” David asked, shocked. “Why, Royce, you and Max have only just met! How about you give him a good chance to let you get to know him?”

Royce raised his brow and crossed his skinny fourteen-year-old arms over his chest. “No, I think I’ll pass.”

Max growled and leaned forward, “Now listen here you little-,”

“Max!” David cut him off. David directed his attention back to Royce and frowned. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but I’m going to have to say no. If you still have a real issue with Max by the end of the week, then maybe something can be discussed. But until then, I want you to give him a chance. Okay?”

Royce groaned, but followed David’s authority without another fighting word. He turned around and glowered at Max with every ounce of hatred available in his pre-pubescent body.

“I’m not going to follow your orders,” Royce informed him. “I’ll listen to David, but not you. So don’t try to boss me around.”

Had Max been concerned with the opinion of a teenager, he would’ve asked why on earth Royce disliked him so strongly when they had only formally met mere minutes ago. But because he had been blessed with the fine luxury of caring less, he just shrugged and kicked back even further, “Go right ahead, kid. That’s less work for me.”

“Alright, campers!” David called, a smile plastered once again on his face. “Let’s move you into your tents, and then we can do some icebreakers! Counselors, I’m going to ask you to help out wherever necessary in getting our new friends into their quarters in a timely fashion. Here are clipboards with each of your campers’ tent assignments. Now let’s get going, alright?”

The campers poured out of the mess hall with their bags around their backs, and let Neil and Nikki lead them to the campers’ grounds. Max shoved his hands into his pockets and trailed behind.

When they arrived at the clearing, Max led his pitifully small troop to their batch of tents, which had been moved slightly to the left of the other two groups.

Max’s eyebrows knit as he scanned the area, and suddenly he realized just how absurdly tiny his collection of campers was. While he’d never complain about a lighter workload, he had to wonder why he had half the assignment Neil and Nikki had.

Once he’d showed his campers their assigned tents, Max called David over.

“Max! Need a hand?”

“You think I need help?” Max raised a brow indignantly. “I don’t know if it’s dawned on you, _Davey_ , but I’ve got half the campers Neil and Nikki have.”

David made a face and rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, yes- of course.”

At Max’s sour expression, David took it upon himself to explain further. “Look, Max. It’s nothing personal. I’m sure you’d excel just as much with a large group. But when organizing the campers, I was just focused on making sure that they’d have counselors that would be a good fit based on their chosen activity.”

“Right,” Max rolled his eyes. He glanced at Neil’s campers- then at Nikki’s. “So obviously Neil’s got the nerdy brainiacs with science-based registrations, and Nikki’s taking care of athletics.”

“That’s exactly right,” David nodded, satisfied.

“So then what do I have? The miscellaneous runoff?”

David sighed. “I don’t appreciate that description of our more… _niche_ campers, Max. You’d know better than anyone- Camp Campbell has always been a place for everyone to fit in. I couldn’t bring myself to shove campers anywhere just because they’ve got more diverse interests.

“That’s exactly what you did, dumbass! God, it’s like you don’t even hear yourself speak sometimes,” Max snapped, waving his arms around for emphasis towards his campers as they struggled to move their things. “What, are we the fucking _Island of Misfit Toys_ or something?”

“Max, stop,” David commanded. The two simple words came out in a tone so flat and firm, even Max had to fall silent at it.

For the first time in Max’s life, David looked like more than an annoying camp counselor- he looked like an _authority_ figure. “I’ve told you several times that I am _not_ going to tolerate your mouth. Now I’ve been lenient because it’s just been us and the other two co-counselors, but there are campers here now, and your poor language _will_ grant you consequences. If I hear one more curse out of you, I’ll be having you help our Quartermaster clean the bathrooms in your free-time. Understood?”

Max huffed, but he could feel his blood running cold in David’s hard stare. He nodded, “Understood.”

“Swell. Now go help your campers, please.”

Max stiffened his upper lip. Maybe he’d lost the battle, and maybe he was losing the war- but fuck it if he wasn’t going to be a pain in David’s ass until his dying day. “I’m taking a laid-back approach,” Max said smartly. “It’s going to help them be more independent. If I coddle them, they’ll end up convincing themselves that they can’t do things right on their own. It’s behavioral psychology, David.”

David sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Fine, Max,” he relented, walking off.

Max sighed and released the pin keeping his shoulders locked, relaxing as his kids packed their things away. He caught the brief image of Royce helping one of the other boys into their shared tent. Royce looked up and shot Max a deathly glare. Max smiled back cheekily, offering Royce a half-hearted thumbs-up.

He was interrupted from checking his phone when one of the kids nudged him.

“Yes?” Max snapped, whipping around to meet the kid’s eyes. Below him stood Melody, who had to crane her head at an uncomfortable angle to look at Max in the face.

“I, uh-,”

“Speak up, kid. What do you want?”

Melody winced. She stared at the ground beneath her as she spoke, and because her voice was so soft, Max found himself being forced to kneel in order to get closer.

“I’ve… I’ve got this instrument, and I don’t think I can fit it into my tent. Royce already tried helping, but we couldn’t get it to lie safely without being in the way.”

“So?”

“So I was wondering if there was a place where I could possibly put it?”

Max shrugged. “Sure. Just throw it in the activities field or something.”

Melody tilted her head. “Where’s that?”

Max groaned. “Jesus, you kids are helpless.”

“I’m not a kid, sir. I’m twelve,” Melody said, her voice quaking slightly. “I mean- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you. I can just go ask Royce, or counselor David-,”

Max silenced her with a dismissive wave. “Shut up. You don’t have to call David- that’s stupid. I know my way around just fine. Give me one second, and I’ll take you.”

Max searched across the clearing for one of his co-counselors. His eyes found Neil helping one of his kids pack his trunk into a tent.

“Hey, Neil!”

“I’m busy, Max!”

“Cool- just watch my campers for a few minutes! I’ve got to take this one to put her sh- er, sorry, her _things_ away.”

“Fine, go ahead!”

With his responsibilities covered, Max slipped his hands back into his pockets and started walking towards the activities field. Behind him, Melody struggled to keep up. She looked like a lopsided turtle as she walked, with a shell three sizes too large. Max didn’t turn back once to make sure she was following behind him.

Once they’d arrived there, Max scanned the prospective area.

“Shit,” he grumbled after making sure David wouldn’t be around to ticket his mouth. “Hey kid, you’re in music camp, right?”

“My name is Melody, and I’m technically in orchestra camp,” she corrected him. Then her eyes went wide, as if some horror had just dawned upon her, and she quickly added, “I mean, yeah. It’s basically music camp. Sorry.”

“Whatever it is,” Max dismissed with a wave of his hand, “David probably moved it to the amphitheater when he reorganized the camp, because I don’t see anywhere for you to store that here. Come on- it’s this way.”

Melody made a face of dread as she propped the instrument over her back again, but said nothing. It was then that Max noticed just how unfitted the instrument was for her. It was so large, that Melody was forced to bend over to keep the base end from dragging on the ground behind her.

He grimaced as he watched her struggle, and eventually caved.

“Jesus. You’re going to break it if you keep fucking holding it like that. Here, give it to me.”

Melody’s eyes flickered nervously between Max and her instrument. Max identified the expression instantly- scrutiny. She looked as if she was trying to figure out in that split-second whether Max could be trusted with her delicate possessions. Eventually, she decided that he looked able enough to handle it and gingerly set the instrument down, stepping away.

Max grabbed the case, and carefully shifted it over to his back.

“Hell, is this a double-bass? It’s almost as tall as I am,” Max said as they walked over towards the amphitheater.

“It’s a cello, actually,” Melody answered.

“Why’s it so fucking big? Can you even reach the fingerboard?”

Melody shrugged. “It’s a hand-me-down from my brother. I can reach just fine too, as long as the peg isn’t out too far.”

Max was skeptical about this, but didn’t question her further.

The amphitheater looked almost exactly as it had been left in Max’s last year of camp. When they’d brushed over it during their counselor orientation tour, Max hadn’t been able to really focus on it. But now that it was coming closer to his immediate view, he could clearly make out some of the more mentionable details.

Preston’s misspelled sign still hung tall above the stage, and even a few of the sets from old plays were still set up behind the old velvet curtain. Max felt himself smiling. Again, he wasn’t sentimental- but it was nice to know that David hadn’t replaced _everything_ in Camp Campbell. It made the place somehow feel more solid and real, as if the artifacts of its past proved that it had some meaningful history.

For the first time since arriving at camp, Max felt like he was somewhere familiar.

Max led Melody backstage, and together they found a nice makeshift table made of prop-trunks that was pushed up against the back wall. They unzipped the instrument’s case, and set it flat on the table.

Max felt at home in the amphitheater which was strange, because it had never meant much of anything to him when he was a camper. Somehow, it felt unholy to speak behind the structure’s walls.

But this feeling was clearly exclusive. Smiling wide, Melody spoke in her typical volume as she thanked Max for his help.

Max almost replied in a hushed tone before realizing the concept of doing so would be absurd. He cleared his throat. “Whatever,” he snapped. “Now hurry up and get the rest of your shit packed away. Do you know your way back to the tents, or do you need me to hold your fucking hand?”

“I’ll be okay!” Melody called.

“Fine then. Go,” Max said with a dismissive wave.

Melody streaked away without further parting words.

Max went to follow her, but some magnetism forced him to stay put in the amphitheater for just a moment longer. The air around him felt like a bubble of space in which his sanity had finally found a medium to travel through. In the refurbished camp full of uncomfortable newness, Max could appreciate that at least one place had the decency to be old.

Max mentally promised to come back to the amphitheater later and trudged back to the camper’s tents. He ran his fingers along the volume buttons of his phone as he walked.

By the time he’d hit the tents, it appeared that all of the campers had already finished packing and had made their way to the mess hall.

Max slipped in without a sound (a skill he’d perfected after years of living with the lightest sleeper known to man), and took a seat at one of the tables near the back. The campers around him were already examining printed pieces of paper excitedly.

“Alrighty! Now that we’re all here, let’s get started! We’ll be doing icebreakers all week to get you kiddos adjusted, and today’s fun activity is our scavenger hunt! In your hands, you have a list of riddles that will lead you to flags that are hidden around the camp! You’ll have to work together in teams of five or so to find them.”

“What do we get if we win?” One of Nikki’s campers asked.

“Well, whichever team gets the most flags will get first picks at dessert, _and_ your very own search-and-rescue patch for your camp sash! Isn’t that exciting?”

The kids must’ve agreed with David’s sentiment, because they clumped into their groups and cleared out as soon as they were dismissed. Max observed them, perplexed with the concept of any child being excited over a stupid sash.

The camp sashes had something of a history with him. They’d been instated when he was nine, in his first year of camp, but after he’d staged something of a camp-wide boycott, their presence was removed. Apparently now that his influence had left the scene, David had found an opportunity to bring his beloved fabric brag-sheets back into commission.

Neil, Nikki, and Max followed the kids outside and took rest under a shaded spot beneath the science pavilion.

“I think my campers like me!” Nikki said, a wide smile decorating her face.

“Congratulations,” Max said dryly.

Max wasn’t sure what kind of ego or self-esteem boost was to be gained by earning the affection of a child, but he wanted none of it. As long as his campers listened to him, he didn’t care what they thought of him.

The three co-counselors sat for a while and talked lazily, though Max could see that Neil and Nikki’s eyes would shift often from the conversation between them to the activities field. Twice, Neil yelled at his own campers for straying too far towards the edge of the field.

The realization quickly dawned upon Max that he was no longer hanging around the kids he had grown up with- rather, he was talking to adults who had grown up completely without him.  

Max felt like an old amphitheater in the middle of a new camp.

It was in the middle of that thought when Royce had come sprinting down the dirt path towards them, “Co-counselors, co-counselors!” Royce’s eyes looked frantic.

Max frowned, lifting his head from his hands. “What, did you find a flag?”

Royce shot a nasty look in Max’s direction before turning back to address Neil and Nikki. He spoke through heaving breaths, “There’s… one of the kids in our group! He’s… he’s high!”

Max’s eyes bulged. “He’s _what?”_

“He… he climbed one of the trees, and he’s stuck!” Royce yelled, waving his arms about for emphasis. “You have to help him!”

Max felt something heavy form in the pit of his stomach. “Shit!” he hissed. “How’d you let that happen? For Christ’s sake, does David know?”

“I don’t think so-,”

“Great, then let’s get the hell over there,” Max said. “Neil, Nik, you with me?”

Neil and Nikki shot one last cautionary glance towards their campers before nodding and standing up.

“Follow me,” Royce said.

And then they were running- with Royce leading, and the three co-counselors following close behind. Royce led them into the mouth of the forest, and veered left off the trail after a football field’s length. As they descended deeper and deeper into the woods, it became harder to run without tripping on the thickets and tree roots.

Max’s eyes flickered from the others ahead of him to his own feet. Though despite his careful watch, his foot still caught on a branch as he went, and his body crashed to the ground.

He hardly had a moment to register the pain, however, and simply dusted himself off before continuing to run.

Finally, they arrived. Max found the tree fairly quickly- his remaining three campers were standing around it, shouting up reassurances to the boy trapped. If he craned his neck and squinted, Max could just barely make out the boy’s yellow camp shirt.

“Hang on, Kel! I’ve got the counselors!” Royce called, using his cupped hands as a megaphone. “You’re gonna be just fine!”

“Good! Tell them to hurry!”” Kel called back. He clung to his branch like a scared cat, arms wrapped around the bark in a tight hug.

“Shit, alright,” Max snapped. “You two stay here- I’m going to go get the ladder from the Quartermaster’s shed.”

A yelp of surprise shocked the counselors’ attention back to Kel. His grip had somehow failed, and he was now hanging onto the branch as if it were a chin-up bar.

“No time for that, Max!” Neil snapped.

“Do you have a better goddamn idea? Because if you do, I’ll be fucking peached to hear it!”

“The ladder isn’t even remotely fucking tall enough!”

“At least I’m trying to-,”

“Shut up!” Nikki roared. She spat on her hands and rubbed them together before untying the jacket around her waist and tossing it to the ground. Quieter, she said, “I’ve got him.”

Above them, Kel began to slip into hysterics. Nikki reared back and ducked like a practicing track athlete.

“No fucking way,” Max murmured. “You’re not seriously going to-,”

“Watch me.” With amazing force, Nikki kicked off and catapulted herself into the tree. She leaped into the trunk, and used it as a jumping point to reach one of the sturdier high branches, pulling herself up like a practiced gymnast and securing her foot into a hold.

She scaled the tree effortlessly like that- leaping and pulling and climbing like the intense feat was her version of a morning jog.

From below, Max’s kids began to cheer her on.

Kel went down suddenly to one hand. He kicked at the air helplessly. Max caught Royce staring up in amusement at the scene.

Nikki was quickly advancing upon him. She finally managed to steady herself on the branch directly below him, and was calling for him to let go.

“You’ll drop me!”

“I won’t! You’ll be safe, I promise. Just _trust_ me.”

“Kel, it’s okay!” Royce called out from below. “You can let go now!”

“Just try and throw yourself a little bit towards me, okay?” Nikki coaxed.

As if his cue had been called, Kel swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut before using the last of his strength to swing himself towards Nikki. Catching him had been a reach even with his efforts, but Nikki managed to wrap an arm around his chest and save him from the impending doom of gravity.

She shifted the shaking boy around so that he was propped up upon her shoulders piggy-back style, and started her descent.

Down on the forest floor, the small group of campers exploded into cheers of relief. Max let out a held breath that would’ve impressed professional divers.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, slinging an arm around Neil to support himself as his legs began to buckle. “That was so fucking close.”

Neil nodded, face flushed.

It took Nikki a solid ten minutes to get back down with Kel on her back, and in that time, the relief in Max’s chest had slowly been replaced by anger. And by the time Nikki’s feet hit the ground, Max was screaming.

“What the _hell_ was that?” he roared.

Kel dropped down from Nikki’s back and stared up at Max, wordless.

“Well?” Max pressed.

“I-, sir-, I didn’t-,”

“Quit fucking stuttering!” Max snarled, pushing Nikki aside and getting in Kel’s face. “What the fuck were you doing up there? Why were you even this far out?”

“N-nobody told us we couldn’t! I just thought that I might get a good view, or-,”

“Listen here, you little shit-,” Max growled, ripping Kel off the ground by his shirt collar. Max yanked Kel close enough to clearly make out the scratches on the boy’s cheek, and the sweat on his forehead.

Then Max caught Kel’s eyes and saw the fear in them, and suddenly his rage vanished.

Max blinked, snapping out of whatever emotion had overwhelmed him, and his grip slackened. Kel stumbled back like a wounded animal. Max stared at his hand for a moment, wondering airily when his grip had ever gotten so strong.

Realizing then that all eyes were on him, Max steeled his gaze and swallowed the hard lump in his throat. “Just… go back to camp. All of you.”

The campers, unsure of whether to feel guilty or fearful, complied. Like dogs with tails between their legs, they shuffled back towards the camp.

“Nikki can you-,” Max looked up helplessly.

Nikki’s expression was unreadable. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re okay,” she promised. Nikki took a deep breath before plastering a signature grin back onto her face, and skipped over to catch up with the campers. “Come on, guys!” she sang, “There’s still time to find a few flags and beat those dorks in the Science Camp! Don’t look so down, okay?”

The kids latched onto her enthusiasm quickly, and seemed to pick up their feet a bit higher as she led them out of the woods.

Neil and Max lagged behind. Max gripped his own hand and squeezed it firmly.

“Are you alright, Max?” Neil asked.

“I fucked up,” Max replied simply.

Neil laid sympathetic eyes upon Max. The younger man’s expression was foggy- lost in a murky stew of unpleasant memories.

“It’s okay,” Neil said, “Everyone fucks up here and there. God knows nobody expects you to be perfect.” Neil’s hand found Max’s shoulder.

Max slapped it away immediately and sidestepped to put more space between Neil and himself.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Neil rolled his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat. “Can I form the conjecture that you’re _not_ here to make a better person out of yourself?”

“You can, and you’d be half-right,” Max shrugged. “Without getting too specific, I needed money. This place happens to be money.”

“Right,” Neil said, unimpressed.

Max snorted and raised a brow. “What, are you and Nikki here because you have a need to go _soul-searching_ or something?”

Neil frowned and turned away to stare at the sky. “Not really.”

Though neither of them had fully said their peace, they decided to leave the conversation at that.

By the time they’d made it back to the activities field, the scavenger hunt had already concluded. Campers walked about the activities area, trying to figure out how to properly utilize their allotted free hours. Max’s eyes passed over a few of Nikki’s kids playing basketball with their brand-new sashes and patches wrapped around their bodies.

David was waiting for him outside the mess hall.

Max cursed when he saw David, and had to fight his urge to turn around and walk right back into the forest.

“Max, I’d like to see you alone in the mess hall, please,” David ordered.

Max nearly cursed. He felt his blood freeze up, but followed David inside without a smart word. As soon as the door shut behind them, David spoke up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” David said harshly. “Really, Max?”

Max flinched at David’s tone. He hadn’t expected David to be so furious. David’s fists were clenched tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, and his eyes were alight with fury. The man was shaking.

“You couldn’t watch your _five_ campers for a single hour?”

“David, I swear, I didn’t-,”

“Kel could have gotten seriously injured, Max! He could have _died!_ ” David snarled, his voice reaching a dangerous peak. “I _refuse_ to have any casualties on my watch. Is that clear?” David’s voice fizzled and cracked as he spoke like a cheap firecracker.

“David, I-,”

“I don’t want to hear it! You will not endanger my campers with your neglect, _damn it!”_

And then David was looking at him, but Max could tell that David was seeing someone else. Max furrowed his brows and looked down at his shoes.

“I know. I fucked up, and I’m sorry,” Max said, hoping David would hear the genuine remorse in his tone. “But I swear- I’ll get better, I promise. Just give me one more chance. _Please._ David, I’m fucking _begging_ you.”

David sighed and sat down on one of the table benches. “Sit down, Max,” he said, patting the space next to him. Max complied, sitting down as if his joints were those of an un-oiled robot.

“Firstly, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that,” David admitted. He turned to face Max, and settled a firm hand on Max’s shoulder. “Look, Max, I’m not going to fire you yet. I’m going to give you one more chance because I know who you are. I know that you really do try when it comes down to the wire, and I know you’re still on your own journey to becoming a good person. So I’ll go against my common sense to offer you some leniency.”

Max collapsed in relief, his head falling into his hands, “Thank you, David. Fuck, _thank you.”_

David smiled, “Of course, Max.” His face went stern again, “But I want you to know that I can’t accept another mistake like that. So if I hear of you putting your campers in danger one more time, I’ll be forced to let you go.”

Max nodded, “I… I understand.”

“Good,” David said. “That’ll be all, then. You can go.”

Max stood up, but he didn’t leave the room immediately. David still looked fairly shaken up, and it didn’t seem right to leave him without trying to help.

“David, are you okay?” Max asked. “Not that I care, it’s just-,”

“I’ll be just fine,” David cut him off. The counselor cracked a wobbly smile, and said nothing further. Max thought he saw David murmur a name under his breath, but decided not to push it.

Max left David to be alone. He walked out of the mess hall and eyed the activities field. His campers seemed to be fitting into their places pretty well, despite their oddities. A few had even managed to merge with the other two groups.

Max found Charlie examining the planting troughs lining the back of the mess hall with some of Neil’s campers, and Derby playing basketball with Nikki’s. Melody was sitting on the stairs leading up to the science pavilion, seemingly enjoying the sounds of the forest around her, and Kel was recounting the morning’s story animatedly to a few onlookers from upon a makeshift soapbox.

And then there was Royce, walking towards him.

Royce planted his feet next to Max’s and crossed his arms.

“Are you getting fired?” Royce asked.

“Not yet,” Max said back.

“Fine.”

“You’ve got a real attitude, kid,” Max remarked.

Royce turned to stare at Max, and suddenly, Max could see the stress lines that were already starting to develop at the corners of his doe-like eyes. Royce cleared his throat, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been coming to this camp since I was _ten_. I like it here, and I’m not going to let one apathetic asshole of a counselor ruin that for me.”

“Enroll in Science Camp anytime,” Max shot back.

“You’ll be sorry later,” Royce said. He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, and without another word, he stalked away. Max laughed to himself at the boy’s dramatics, and wandered over to his fellow co-counselors.

“How was your talk with David?” Neil asked.

“Enlightening,” Max said flatly.

There was a small silence before Max spoke up again. “Also, I learned a valuable lesson today: I’m never having kids.”

“What?” Nikki’s eyes snapped up immediately.

“Are you going to break the news to Goodplay?” Neil snickered.

Max managed to smile. “Oh, fuck off.”

Neil laughed like happiness had ceased to be a chore.

Dinner came around six. Max, feeling far more nauseous than hungry, stayed in the mess hall just long enough to make sure that his kids had gotten their food without trouble. And then, he politely excused himself to the bathroom, and left.

For the first time in his life, Max found himself thriving in the mute sounds of nature. He hummed as the cool dusk air brushed his skin and he made his way towards the lake.

He found himself at the amphitheater before long. The sun slipping beneath the lake looked almost beautiful, but Max couldn’t help but compare it to the view he’d had from his apartment. Max sat down on the edge of the stage and pressed his palms flat against the polished wood beneath him. It was still scuffed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He’d been checking it all day- waiting for a vibration, or a light, or a ring- _anything._ But all he’d received was a text from his bank about some overdraft fees, and an email from the White Castle newsletter that he’d never gotten around to unsubscribing to.

He had almost fallen completely victim to his thoughts when a familiar face approached him.

“Neil,” Max greeted.

“I walked your campers back to their tents,” Neil said.

“Thanks.”

Neil took a seat next to Max and pursed his lips. His eyes lingered upon the way light shone off of Max’s cheeks for a moment before turning away. “I had a theory that you’d be here,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yep,” Neil said. He paused for a breath or two before speaking up again. “You already miss him, don’t you?”

Max raised a brow. “Preston? No way, dude. Do you know how relieving it is to go an entire day without hearing him fucking screaming in my ears? My life hasn’t been this quiet since God-knows-when,” Max said through his teeth.

“Right,” Neil snorted.

Max’s false grin fell limp. “No texts,” he admitted. “No calls; not even a fucking e-mail. Fuck, It’s only been two goddamned days, but I’m already losing my mind.”

“You’ve been living with the man for almost a decade. I wouldn’t expect you to suddenly be fine without him,” Neil shrugged.

“I guess.”

“Did he see you off before you left yesterday?”

Max made a face. “No,” he said, “He had a private rehearsal with his co-star for the new production he’s in or something like that.”

Neil didn’t speak. It was clear that Max wasn’t finished, and he wanted to give Max a beat of rest to collect his thoughts.

“It’s fucked, Neil,” Max said finally. “I told him I needed space, and he’s doing that for me, and for some reason, I can’t stand it. I’m a hypocrite.”

“Maybe he needs space too?”

“Yeah,” Max said, though he didn’t look convinced in the slightest, “Probably.”

They both sat there in the amphitheater’s shadow, trying their best not to feel cold. The gentle rush of water lapping at the lakeshore behind them fell somehow in perfect time with their breathing. The clean smell of nature reminded Max just how far away he was from the city.

And for the first time that day, something felt real to him.

“Hey, Max?” Neil said, invading the quiet. “I know we didn’t get off to the greatest start, but I missed you.”

“You still pissed at me?”

“Yeah, a little,” Neil admitted. “I don’t think if I can forgive you so easily for dropping off the face of the earth and leaving Nikki and I behind.”

“If it’s any consolation, it looks like you two managed perfectly without me,” Max laughed bitterly.

Neil didn’t respond.

They stayed there in silence for another two hours, both caught in their own separate thoughts, until Nikki came calling for them.

“Night-hike time!” Nikki announced, “Man, is this where you’ve been hiding out? I’ve been looking for you guys for the past twenty minutes.”

“An adventurous search, I’m sure,” Max deadpanned.

“Come _on_ , Max! Lighten up! David’s going to take us up to the wide part of the river, and I really want to see it before it gets all pitch-black out.”

“Think we’ll have to wade through it?” Neil shivered.

“Extremely likely! Now let’s go!”

Max and Neil exchanged an identical look of dread before hopping down from the stage and following Nikki towards the hiking trail. Against his better judgment, Max snuck another glance at his phone.

“Hey, Max, let me see that. I think I know something that could help you,” Neil prompted, holding out his hand expectantly.

Max was skeptical, but relented anyways, gingerly setting the device in Neil’s palm.

Neil set to work instantly, and in ten seconds flat he’d snapped the back panel off of the phone, removed the battery pack, and slipped the lithium power supply into his back pocket. He clicked the panel back into place before handing the now-useless device back to Max.

Max scrunched up his brow, “What the fuck was that for?”

“These night-hikes are the worst, Max, and the only thing that could possibly make them even fucking worse would be having you complain the entire time about not getting a text from your dramatic little twink of a roommate. I’ll return your battery when we get back to the cabin.”

And because the day had already weighed so heavy on Max, and because he was sick of feeling awful, he let himself laugh. “Thanks, asshole. Glad to see that you still get me.”

Neil clapped Max on the back, and for once Max didn’t bite back at the physical contact.

“Anything for you, Max,” Neil said. “Anything for you.”

And God, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite simply astounding to me when I see all the amazing positive reviews I've gotten for this little piece of work. I thank you with everything I have, because without that support, I doubt I would've powered through this chapter. Over 20,000 words of drafts, edits, and re-writes went into this single 8,000 word chapter, and it would not have been possible if not for you amazing folks who have given me a reason to keep kickin'. 
> 
> A big thank-you to everyone who commented.
> 
> Special thanks goes to @facetclod on Tumblr for their hilariously epic fanart, which you can check out here:   
> http://facetclod.tumblr.com/post/164356887498
> 
> Again, I follow "#the sparrow still sings" on Tumblr, and you can always shoot me a message "@max-as-hell'".


	4. Neil Gets Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Implied Homophobic Stereotypes  
> -Slight Depictions of Trauma  
> -Mention of Child Death  
> -References to Alcohol/Smoking/Substance Abuse  
> -Slight Sexual Situations

Neil Gets Jealous

Max leaned back into his plastic Bermuda beach-chair, adjusting a pair of dirty, cheap sunglasses over his eyes. A single headphone was fitted snugly in his ear, and the upbeat piano music playing from it sounded like a carnival.

Max dug his boots into the gritty artificial beach that lined the shores of Lake Lilac and let go of a long-held sigh.

It had been a hectic week. Between surviving through David’s daily icebreakers and dealing with his five campers, Max had been thrown well in over his head. He was honestly starting to wonder if it had actually been Neil and Nikki who had gotten off with the lighter workload, because even though they were faced with more campers, at least they were only asked to provide tutelage for one or two different activities.

Not one of the oddities that Max had been stuck with had even the slightest similarity with the next as far as camp assignments went.

This meant that during activities hours, Max would be doing little else save for rushing around the campgrounds to instruct a plethora of obscurely niche camps (most of which he really had no license to oversee).

In the mornings, he’d take them out to the amphitheater for Melody’s Orchestra Camp, where the kids would all crowd around her as she worked through her many arrangements and music scores. Thankfully, she was mostly self-teaching, so the only thing that Max was asked to do was to turn her music for her while she played through her longer arrangements. After that, it was back to the mess hall to help Derby (who had been begrudgingly forced to attend a Home-Living Camp) with knitting and sewing and cooking. Max- who actually had some talent at all these basic arts- seemed to enjoy it a lot more than she did.

After that, they’d break to participate in one of David’s stupid ‘bonding exercises’ before filing back outside to begin their afternoon schedule.

Charlie, who had been signed up for Environmental Camp, would do little else other than tend to the Quartermaster’s vegetable garden that lined the back side of the mess hall. Occasionally, Max would be needed to fetch fertilizer or water for the pails from the supply shed, but he mostly enjoyed the moment to breathe. He would need all the rest he could muster before Kel’s Stunt Acting camp, which would easily demand the most physical input from him. He would race around the amphitheater to operate the rusted fly systems in order to keep the practicing campers from sustaining any mortal injuries, and when he was done, he would often feel sore and tired.

Really, the only camper Max had no responsibility to teach was Royce. He had asked the young teenager what his camp assignment was, and upon receiving a dismissive reply, went to track down Royce’s application. Max was unsurprised to find that Royce had no formal camp assignment- and of course he’d felt bad at first, but he eventually found that he honestly couldn’t manage to dig up more than a scraps’ worth of sympathy for the boy.

Frankly put, Royce was a hellion.

Even on Saturday- the one day of freedom that the campers were given, Royce refused to relax.

“What the hell are you even doing, kid?” Max snapped, staring at the boy.

Next to him, Royce was standing like a patrol officer with his paycheck on the line. His thin arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he stood like his spine had been swapped out with a metal rod. His eyes scanned the lakeshore as if blinking was an inconvenience.

“Watching the campers,” Royce said matter-of-factly, “You know, to make sure nobody gets hurt or drowns. Someone has to. I mean, you clearly aren’t.”

“I’m doing my job just fine,” Max rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just go play with your friends like a normal fucking kid?”

“What, does it bother you that a fourteen year-old can do your job better than you?” Royce taunted.

“No,” Max snapped. “What bothers me is that you’re wasting a perfectly good Saturday just because you want to spite me more than you want to enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t care about you enough to waste my time _spiting_ you, counselor,” Royce sneered, and he said ‘counselor’ in the same way one might say ‘asshole’ or ‘dickhead’. “All I’m doing is making sure your laziness doesn’t put anyone in danger a _second_ time.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, and he spat lowly, “Talk to me again like that- see what fucking happens.”

“What, are you gonna choke me out or something?”

“God damn you-,”

“Look, It’s not like there’s anything for me to do in the lake anyways,” Royce interrupted, smirking a bit as Max’s brow twitched in annoyance.

“Go fucking play with Kel or something,” Max said. “He tolerates you.”

“He won’t go in,” Royce said back with a shrug.

Max followed Royce’s eyes to the water’s edge. Away from the other campers, Kel stood with his fierce eyes fixed upon the lake as if he were in a heated staring contest with the muddy water. Every so often, he would rock back and forth on his toes as if he were about to jump in, but would then suddenly stop- as though he’d thought better of himself.

“Christ, you kids are freaks,” Max groaned. “What’s his deal?”

Royce huffed, “He says the water is ‘disgusting’. He only swims in chlorinated pools, apparently.”

“You wanna tell him that’s not in our budget?” Max asked, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

“You’re not funny,” Royce said back.

“Oh, I’m being very serious right now. You should go tell him.”

“You’re just trying to make me go away.”

“Guilty as charged,” Max said with a brief, cold laugh.

Royce made an irritated noise in the back of his throat before sulking off to join Kel at the waterside. From his plastic foldout throne, Max watched as the boys talked. Once certain that they wouldn’t get into any trouble, he lounged back once again and tried his best to relax.

He kept his eyes attentive, though. Even though it was an off day for the campers, he, Nikki, and Neil were still expected to work. David had explained during orientation that because there were no scheduled activities on Saturdays, it would be the only day to catch up with any general maintenance chores that had accumulated over the week.

So to ensure that the campers would never be without supervision in the process of housekeeping, the co-counselors had been put on something of a loose rotation schedule. So while Max was enjoying the opportunity to sit back for the moment, Nikki would be coming soon to swap out with him so that he could get to his campers’ laundry.

The sweet sounds of Billy Joel faded fast in Max’s ear, and the song following after struck him like a knife with the first note.

Max groaned; he _really_ needed to create a separate playlist for the music that reminded him of Preston.

He took a deep, shaky breath before plugging his other ear-bud in. Max felt pathetic about getting so emotional over a stupid song like some angst-ridden teenager, but he couldn’t help himself. To be honest, he painful as it was exhausting.

He’d made it about halfway through the third line of Riff’s second verse when a hand swatted hard at the back of his head.

“What the hell-,” Max growled, ripping out his ear-buds and twisting around.

“Earth to Max!” Nikki called, a goofy grin on her face. “I’ve been calling for you for like, ten whole seconds. Just how loud _is_ that music?”

“Shut it, Nikki,” Max grumbled. “Are you done with your laundry?”

“Yep! I’m taggin’ out,” Nikki grinned back. Max noticed that she still smiled with her eyes- the same way she used to when they were younger. She sat down on the dirt besides him. “How are the kids?”

Max waved his hand dismissively. “Unless one of them went and drowned themselves while I wasn’t looking- they’re just peachy,” Max said, standing up to relinquish his bench chair.

“Great!” Nikki said.

Nikki hadn’t even gotten a finger on the armrest of the beach-chair when one of her campers came running up to them both. It was a young girl, and she was sobbing wildly. Hiccups wracked through her entire body, and snot ran down her chin. Her hair stuck out in a large, tangled mess upon her head.

“Aw, hey- what’s wrong, kiddo?” Nikki asked, dipping her head to catch the girl’s eyes.

Between sobs and gasps, the girl replied, “Ja-son p-pulled my-my hair a-and jus’ _look at it!”_

A brief look of confusion flashed across Nikki’s face as she inspected the girl’s hair. “Does it hurt? Is that what’s wrong?” she asked.

“No!” the girl snapped back. “My b-braid! Look at my braid!”

“I don’t see any braid,” Max deadpanned.

Nikki’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh- _oh!”_ she exclaimed, slapping her own face in self-exasperation. She delicately brushed the girl’s bangs back to reveal her bloodshot eyes. Nikki brushed her thumbs at the corners of the girl’s eyes, wiping away the tears that had built up there. “Jason pulled out your braid. Is that it?”

“Yes! That’s what I’ve been tryna tell you!” The girl said back, her breath falling evenly.

“No need to cry, then. It’s no problem at all- I’ll fix it right up for you,” Nikki promised.

“Really? All pretty and everything?” the girl asked.

“Absolutely. Now turn around and let me at it, kiddo,” Nikki instructed, spinning her finger in the air to pantomime turning. The young camper followed suit, turning until her back faced Nikki. The girl had long, brown hair that had grown out far past her hips. Nikki stared at it listlessly for a long beat of rest.

“Nik, do you even know how to do hair stuff?” Max asked incredulously.

“I know enough,” Nikki said, biting her lip.

Nikki parted the girl’s hair into three sections before starting to work. Max, who was more than willing to put off laundry duty, decided that he was still needed to keep a watchful eye on the swimming campers. He stared back at the lake, occasionally taking sideways glances to examine Nikki’s progress. He bit his tongue to keep from mentioning the loose clumps of hair that were already slipping out of the woven mess.

Nikki grumbled under her breath as her inexperienced hands fumbled with the long clumps of hair. Steep ridges formed between her intensely furrowed brows.

About halfway through, the girl stopped her.

“You’re sucking at this,” the camper said.

“Hey,” Max warned, “Be fucking nice.”

“Sorry,” the girl replied, easing away from Nikki. Her long tresses fell away from Nikki’s grasp, the haphazard mess of a braid falling out as soon as it was released. “Can’t you do a French braid or something? I really like French braids.”

Nikki winced. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how to do that. Who braided your hair last time? One of the older girls?”

The girl looked thoughtful for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin. “Counselor Neil!” she exclaimed, as if the name were synonymous with ‘eureka’. She hummed to herself, “but… I haven’t seen him since breakfast. Do you know where he is?”

Nikki paused for a beat before murmuring, “He’s in the laundry room.”

Nikki pursed her lips and stiffened her jaw. Max couldn’t imagine why.

Feeling as if he should do something, Max patted the camper’s head. “Here, kid. I’ll take you to see him. Does that sound good with you, Nikki?” Max asked. He tried hard to make his voice gentle, though even with his efforts it came out as flat and cold.

Something tugged at the corner of Nikki’s lip- the beginnings of a smile that just wasn’t motivated enough to finish the job. “That would be awesome, Max. Thank you.”

The girl cheered and grabbed at Max’s pant-leg, tugging furiously towards the campgrounds. “Come on, counselor! Let’s go!”

“Hang on,” Max said firmly, detaching the child from his side. He leaned in towards Nikki, and in a voice soft enough for two, asked, “Hey, you okay?”

Nikki shoved him away playfully, and she smiled for real. “Aw, you care about me. You’re sweet,” Nikki laughed. “I’ll be fine. Have fun doing the laundry.”

“Oh yeah,” Max drawled, “Loads of fun. No pun intended.”

“You’re totally lame.”

“Shut up. I lived with a writer for eight years- what the hell did you expect?”

Nikki only shook her head and clicked her tongue. Max offered her his best-natured middle finger.

 And with that, he led Nikki’s camper away from the lakeshore, and towards the laundry house.

The laundry house was a single, stuffy room about the size of a walk-in closet. It had low ceilings that made even Max feel cramped, and walls that could hardly fit two men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. A narrow strip of walking space sat in the middle, interrupted by a low wooden bench. Two sets of washers and dryers were mounded along the walls. They were the old kinds, with circular glass doors that doubled as windows of mild entertainment.

Max nudged the young camper in first, and then squeezed in after her.

“Hey,” Max said. “I brought company.”

Neil glanced up from the book he’d been reading, and glanced at the girl for a moment before his gaze flickered back to Max.

“If she’s here for her clothes, Nikki already put them back by the tents,” Neil said.

“I’m not here for any clothes,” The girl said, scrunching up her nose. “I need you to braid my hair again.”

“Again?” Neil sighed.

“Jason pulled it out and ruined it,” she explained.

Neil sighed and folded the corner of his page before clapping the book shut and setting it on top of the dryer in front of him. He beckoned for the girl to stand in front of him, and she complied without a moment’s hesitance.

“Can you do a French braid again?” she asked.

“I suppose,” he sighed. “Come here, Max. And hold what I tell you to.”

Without another word, Neil went to work as if he were a robot- partitioning off her hair into several segments. He occasionally asked Max to hold up a few segments of hair while he worked, but said little else. Deft fingers worked quickly, weaving and tying the pieces together effortlessly.

The only noise for a long time was the sound of clothing being tossed around the dryers.

“Look, buddy, I’m not trying to imply anything or whatever… but when the hell did you learn how to do a French braid?” Max asked to break the deafening silence.

Neil gave him a dirty look, but shrugged as if unoffended. “All of my younger cousins are girls, and I was always asked to watch them at family gatherings. Playing dolls or horses wasn’t really my speed-,”

“It wasn’t?” Max asked with a shit-eating grin.

“-No it wasn’t, asshole,” Neil snapped. “But anyways; to get them off my back, I learned how to do their hair. I’d fix all their braids, and then they’d stop bothering me for the rest of the night. It was a great deal.”

“So can you do even _more_ kinds of braids?” The girl asked, and Max could see the stars in her eyes as she asked it.

Neil groaned, “Anything you can think of. After my cousins got bored of regular braids, they made me do French. And after French, they wanted fishtail. And so on, and so forth. Not going to lie, I was seriously considering a cosmetology major for a while there.”

Max laughed and passed Neil a section of hair. “Damn- maybe I should’ve kept my hair long, then. You could’ve done it nice for me.”

“You look really good with short hair, though,” Neil said. He then suddenly clamped his mouth shut, as if trying to trap words that had already escaped. “I mean, like, _professional_.”

“Preston said my new haircut made me look like a Bollywood actor,” Max remarked.

“An astute observation,” Neil said back.

Neil tied the braid with a rubber-band before leaning back to examine his work. “You should be all good now. You can go back to playing. Do you know where the lake is from here?”

“Yeah!” the girl said brightly. She thanked Neil with a tight hug, and then quickly raced out of the laundry room.

With nothing else at his disposal to procrastinate with, Max finally started to work. Thankfully, the laundry system hadn’t changed much since he was a camper. Each of the kids had a brightly colored bin to throw their stale clothes in, and the counselors would wash, dry, and put the clothes back into the bins before returning them to the tents.

It was a long process- simply because of the amount of campers to tend to- but it got the job done.

Max emptied his first bin into an open washer and promptly added the detergent and fabric softener before shutting the lid and setting the machine loose.

“I didn’t expect you to know how to do laundry,” Neil said, his lips drawn out into a lazy, amused grin.

“I didn’t expect you to know how to do a French braid. Life is full of surprises, asshole,” Max retorted. He frowned a bit. “And I’m also twenty-four. What legal adult doesn’t know how to use a washing machine? I mean, hell- I do all the laundry at home.”

“Even Preston’s?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, usually.”

“And you’re honestly not involved with him?” Neil pressed further.

“Jesus Christ- for the last fucking time, Neil: no, we’re not _involved_. He just, you know, he works and goes to school and has rehearsals on top of that. He doesn’t have the time or energy to do something like laundry. And it’s not like doing an extra load or two ever week is some huge fucking deal or anything.”

Max awkwardly drummed out an off-beat rhythm on top of the washing machine. He’d never found household chores to be intimate before, but now it seemed like a sin to speak of them.

“Seriously, why do you keep asking if we’re together? It’s fucking creepy, dude,” Max said.

“Hell, I don’t know,” Neil snapped. “I’m trying to make small-talk, I guess. I’m not a good conversationalist. Besides, you seemed to _like_ talking about Preston. It’s like, the only thing that you _do_ seem to like talking about.”

“So what- just because I like talking about someone, we’re automatically fucking?” Max snapped. He felt the tips of his ears go red.

“It’s just hard to believe that you two aren’t the slightest bit of anything, okay? I mean, fuck, you do the man’s dirty laundry!”

“Christ, you sound just like him,” Max remarked, looking down. He fidgeted with his hands, cracking his knuckles and then his joints.

The tense air dissipated between them. Neil sighed and took on a more gentle expression. “Still nothing?” he asked.

“You just love sore subjects, don’t you?” Max snapped back.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you so fixated on him anyways? It’s weird, Neil,” Max said coldly. Neil flinched at his icy tone and shrunk into his shirt.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just shut up,” Neil said quietly. Dejected, he reached back out for his novel.

“I’m sorry,” Max blurted before Neil could even flip to his page. “I didn’t mean to be shitty about it. I’m just… trying not to think about it, okay? I still haven’t gotten a word from him. It’s killing me.”

Neil set his book back down. He stood up and edged closer to Max, casually bumping their shoulders. Max was too far in thought to notice the lack of space between them.

“We should go out for a drink tonight,” Neil said, “To get your mind off all this crap.”

 “A drink?” Max laughed humorlessly. “Pass. Drinking isn’t my thing.”

“Really? Hard to believe,” Neil whistled.

“What the hell are you insinuating?” Max asked in a warning tone.

“Nothing,” Neil grinned. “What about smoking? Do you smoke?”

Max made a gagging motion. “Disgusting,” he said simply. “One of Preston’s colleagues smokes all the time, and the fucking smell gets into all of Preston’s shit.”

“Alright, fair,” Neil said. His voice was easy and light as he added, “What about drugs?”

 Max’s eyes widened. He cocked his head to look at Neil straight-on. “Jesus, dude! What- are you trying to 21-Jump-Street a summer camp or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Neil laughed, wheezing a bit as he did so. “I’m just kind of amazed. You don’t drink, and you don’t smoke. You don’t even overdose on over-the-counter drugs. What the hell’s your hangup, man?”

“What’s yours?” Max snapped back.

Neil stopped mid-laugh and paused for a moment to breathe. Then, in a calm voice somewhere in the junction between intimacies and joking, he replied, “Work.”

Max nodded in a respectful agreement.

It was then that he noticed the warmth pressing up against his arm, and he realized all at once just how close he was to Neil. Max felt a chill run down his spine. He scooted away awkwardly, muscles tensed and face warm.

The following loads of laundry went without much more conversation. To avoid any heavy topics, Max and Neil broke out into a friendlier conversation- full of anecdotes from Neil about college, and horror stories from Max about minimum-wage labor.

Finally, Max came around to the last bin. It was a bright red one labeled with Royce’s name. The plastic bin was shockingly near empty- with only a pair of ratty shorts, a faded camp shirt, and a thin wool flannel to take up space in it. The flannel was huge- it could have fit around even Max’s broad shoulders with room to spare.

Max raised a skeptical eye, but threw the clothes into the washer anyways. He had a sinking thought in his gut, but he tried not to think about it.

Another thirty minutes passed before Neil spoke up again.

“Hey, you never did tell me, Max,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“Your hangup,” Neil clarified.

Max sighed. He clasped his hands together and squeezed them tightly. “Relationships,” he said finally. “Relationships, and Preston _fucking_ Goodplay.”

Though Neil didn’t seem happy with Max’s answer, he at least seemed satisfied. Max couldn’t expect anything more from his old best friend, and so out of courtesy, he kept his mouth shut.

Dinner was served at five.

The seating arrangements in the mess hall had been assigned for the first week in order to promote bonding between fellow campers and their counselors- but now that the ice had been properly broken, the kids were free to sit wherever they pleased.

Max sat down in the back corner, at the small table where he and his campers had convened for the past several meals. He’d expected his campers to scatter like traitors breaking rank, but it wasn’t long before Charlie, Melody, and Derby had taken up the seats besides him. An unsightly rendition of meatloaf was piled high on their trays.

“Oh god,” Max groaned. “Don’t any of you have fucking friends?”

“I have a lot of friends, actually,” Melody shot back. Max rolled his eyes. “Actually” had quickly become Melody’s favorite word over the past few days, and as she got more confident around Max, she began taking more agency in correcting him. “My friends just don’t get set to knockoff summer camps.”

“That’s… fair,” Max agreed.

“Anyways, I’ve got to mark up some counting on my music, and everybody else keeps touching it,” Melody explained. “This table is the least annoying out of them all.”

“What about you?” Max asked, pointing to Derby.

“Honestly, I just like hangin’ with ya, Mr. Max,” Derby shrugged, stabbing into her meatloaf with her plastic silverware.

Max eyed Charlie. “And you?” he asked around a mouthful of potatoes.

Charlie only shrugged, keeping his eyes down and his shoulders hunched. He picked at his meal- shifting it around his plate, but never taking action to actually eat it.

“Right- still not talking. Cool,” Max rolled his eyes. His eyes flickered between Derby and Melody. “Seriously, have either of you two heard a single noise out of this kid like, ever?”

Derby and Melody paused to think for a moment before agreeing on the negative and shaking their heads.

Just then, a tray plunked down across the table from Max, and a pair of long, lanky legs climbed over the bench.

“Yo, Neil,” Max greeted with a nod. He tightened his grip on his fork.

“Max,” Neil replied back.

The air sat between them like a dense fog. Neil spoke, as if the air leaving his mouth might clear it. “So… you ready for tonight’s hike?”

Max groaned- suddenly becoming hyper-aware of every sore muscle in his body. “No,” he groaned. “I can’t believe David’s forcing us on these things every fucking night. This is the most physical activity I’ve gotten in ages, and I think my body’s rejecting the sudden change.

Neil snickered. “Wow. Overdramatic, much?”

“Overdramatic-my-ass. I have bruises the size of baseballs on my shins from running into tree-roots,” Max grumbled.

Suddenly, Charlie perked up. His eyes were wide and interested. If he were a dog, his head would’ve been cocked and his tail would’ve been wagging.

“Hike?” Charlie asked.

Max’s head whipped around to stare at the boy. He blinked, jaw hanging open like an idiot. “Hold up,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Did you just _talk_?”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and he shrunk back down into his seat. He shrugged, staring at the wood-grain on the table and swinging his legs beneath him anxiously. He traced the grooves in the wood and shrugged.

“Guess you’re a one-hit wonder, then,” Max sighed. “Either way, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Charlie. The hike’s just for counselors. You’ll still be able to go back to your tent and sleep.”

Charlie made the ‘OK’ symbol, but said nothing.

Max glanced back up at Neil. “Hey, is something bothering Nikki by the way?” Max asked. “She was like, weirdly upset earlier this afternoon.”

Neil made a face before twisting around to check on the girl. Nikki was surrounded a group of camper boys, and she was talking animatedly to them. She joined along with them as they shoved carrots up their noses and made Santa beards out of their mashed potatoes.

“She’s just like herself as far as I’m concerned,” Neil said, turning back around.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Max said.

Despite, he couldn’t help but stare at Nikki trying her best to smile around her campers. She was wearing a stick-on grin, and even Max could see her eyes as they darted between her own table and the small group of girls sitting at the bench over. Sitting there, the young girl from earlier showed off her newly woven braids to her friends.

Something about the scene nagged at him, but he shook his head and forced the thought down before it could eat at him much.

After dinner had been finished, the next task was to get the campers back to their tents.

It wasn’t especially demanding- the kids had pretty much mapped out the entire camp, and were more than capable of walking the short distance from the mess hall to their tents on their own. Still, Max, Nikki, and Neil were required to walk them at least halfway.

As soon as the three co-counselors had tucked their campers away for the evening, they were off.

The night-hike would be a long one tonight- David had routed out a trek to the Sleepy Ledges, which was a huge gorge that split through the forest as if Paul Bunyan himself had taken his axe to it.

“When we get there, you three will need to pay _very_ close attention,” David instructed. “If you don’t watch your step, you _will_ fall off one of the edges.”

“If it’s so fu-sorry- if it’s so freaking dangerous, why are we hiking there?” Max asked bitterly. He reaffixed his jeans around his hips, tightening his belt. He’d opted to switch out of his shorts for the night, hoping that maybe the extra coverage would keep him from being bitten by thorny shrubbery.

“I told you, Max. You need to know this place. All of it. Accidents happen, and when they do, you can’t waste time responding because you’re lost and unprepared.”

“What kind of accident happens at some crummy gorge two miles out of camp?” Max asked bitterly.

“Anything can happen, Max. And we’ve got to be prepared for anything,” David said. He smiled a bit before adding, “And don’t think I didn’t hear your poor mouth in the mess hall. You should know that I’m sticking to my word- you’ll be waking up bright and early tomorrow to help our dear quartermaster clean the men’s stalls.”

Max cursed.

The four arrived at the gorge long before nightfall. The splitting rocks made a long, deep crevice about the width of a school bus. A few fat tree roots poked out of the rocky sides, and the entire ledge was covered with deceptively thick plants. Max could hardly see the gorge beneath his toes until they hung halfway off the edge. He felt a chill run up his spine.

“Be careful, Max,” David instructed. He said it firmly enough, but Max could still sense the tremors overtaking his soft voice as he spoke.

Nikki and Neil shrugged before deciding to walk a short ways up along the cliff-side.

“You coming, Max?” Nikki asked as they started to walk off.

Max glanced at David. The man looked haunted.

“I’ll catch up with you,” Max said, shooing them off. Nikki shrugged before continuing on her path, with Neil following shortly behind her.

Max went to find David. The head counselor had wandered off towards the edge of the cliff, and was now sitting on it- his legs swinging freely over the side. Something clicked in Max’s mind: an old forgotten memory that was muddled like a vignette-bordered dream.

“So what’s your deal?” Max asked, decidedly sitting next to his old counselor.

David jolted as if taken from a trance. “Pardon?”

“I feel like everyone in this hellhole’s hiding something from me,” Max said. He cast longing eyes towards Nikki and Neil. “I mean, I don’t care, obviously. I’m not trying to be anyone’s therapy session. I just… I want things to feel fucking normal for once.”

David snorted. “Normal?”

“Familiar,” Max clarified.

David broke out into a laugh. He looked at Max with a level gaze. “You know, watching you three grow up has been amazing,” he sighed fondly.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Am I?” David asked. The older man’s eyes glinted with an old mischief.

“Suck my dick, David. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Max grumbled, shaking his head and staring over the canyon ledge.

The sudden memory came to Max in the same way that a train might’ve. All at once, he began to remember the musty, torn-up leather seats of the old camp-mobile. He remembered how he, Nikki, and Neil had pulled a prank that had gone too far. He remembered the long-winded story that David had told them on the long drive to the hospital.

“Jason,” Max blurted out, snapping his fingers victoriously. “Or Jack? I can’t remember his name. Shit. Let’s see, uh, Jas… _Jasper!_ That’s it! It was Jasper.”

David froze upon the familiar name. His jaw clenched for a moment, and his hands shook hard. He squeezed his eyes shut, and took in a deep, stuttered breath. And then suddenly the tenseness in his body vanished, and he slumped forward like an old ragdoll.

“Yes, that’s right,” David nodded, “Jasper.”

Max toyed with his fingers. “I don’t know if you remember the story that you told Nikki, Neil, and I back when we were kids but-,”

“It was a lie,” David confessed. “Well, it was partly a lie. Most of it was truthful.”

“A lie?” Max asked.

David turned to face Max. Max saw tears that weren’t his own. “We really did try to save him, Max. We got so far, too… but he died before the ambulance got to camp.”

“Oh,” Max said.

As the story had been told when Max was ten, an old camper that had attended camp with David in the man’s younger years had fallen down the Sleepy Ledges gorge after not watching his step. David had always recounted the story to end on a positive note; with Jasper being rescued in the end by David and Cameron Campbell.

But the truth was out now. There was no valiant rescue or happy ending; Jasper had died. And now Max, like David, would have to live with that information. Max stared down the gorge one last time, as if he might trick himself into believing the old story once more. But that one look only confirmed the new discovery: no child could’ve possibly survived a fall down there.

“So you understand now why I’m so darn insistent that our campers stay safe, right?” David asked.

Max stared down at his knees. “Yeah, David. I get it,” Max said, head spinning.

“Thank you. Now come on- we should probably get the other two and head back. You’ve got an early wake-up call in the morning, and I’d hate to see you lose sleep.”

Max groaned. “Damn. I’m really not getting off the hook with the whole bathroom duty thing, am I?”

“Not a chance,” David grinned back. He stood up and stretched, as if the great weight upon his shoulders had finally been relieved.

Nikki and Neil were found in a small clearing by the cliff-side. The two were talking amicably, tossing stones over the edge and counting how long it took before they could hear the echo that rung once the stone hit the bottom of the gorge.  

“What’s this about?” Max asked.

“We’re just trying to see just how steep this S.O.B. is,” Nikki laughed. “We’re estimating about two hundred feet. It’s pretty small as far as gorges go, actually.”

Max cocked a brow. He scrutinized Neil with a skeptical eye. “What, did you somehow cram a geology credit into your extensive academic career as well?”

Neil shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t. Nikki did,” he explained, gesturing to the girl.

Nikki snorted at Max’s blank expression. “What, did you think my entire professional career was pro-sports or something? Come on, Max. I’ve got a life outside of work. See?” Nikki waggled her left hand at Max- and for a moment he thought she was giving him the finger- but eventually, he noticed it: the golden band around her ring finger.

“Oh, wow,” Max said, suddenly feeling sick. “I, uh- congratulations, I guess.”

Nikki’s expression softened. “Hey, don’t worry, Max. You didn’t miss a wedding or anything like that. I’m now married yet- just got a fiancée for now. Two e’s, of course,” Nikki winked.

Max bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure she’s fucking lovely,” he said in a tone that discouraged any further discussion.

Max shoved his hands into his pockets as he speed-walked back to the camp. As he trekked through the forest, the trees around him suddenly appeared to curve inwards, like great long claws threatening to close in on him. He felt like a fly in a bear-trap.

The hike back to the camp felt like a blur. But somewhere between the gorge and the mouth of the forest, Max’s fists unclenched, and the sick feeling in his gut eased up. He had even started talking amicably once more with Neil and Nikki.

Then, he saw the shadow.

It looked as if it belonged to a small child, and it leant up against one of the posts by the forest entrance. Max had to squint to make out the camper’s olive skin and floppy hair.

“Oh shit, is that-,” Max trailed off, breaking out into a jog as he approached his camper.

“Impossible. The Quartermaster should’ve been watching…” David’s brow creased, and he followed close behind.

“Charlie? What are you doing away from your tent?” Max asked, kneeling down to be on eye-level with the young camper. Max tried to look back at David for some reassurance, but the older man’s face looked just as lost as his own.

Charlie smiled and pointed towards the forest. “Hike,” he said simply.

“It was only a counselor hike, kid. You know that,” Max sighed in exasperation. He dragged a hand down his own face and groaned. “Get back to your tent, okay?”

Charlie whined, an obvious refusal. He made a few odd gestures with his hands, and whined even louder when Max had no idea how to reply.

Max felt a headache poke at his skull. “Look, kid, I can’t… I don’t understand whatever you’re trying to tell me. Can’t you just, like, _talk?_ ”

Charlie made an even more feverous string of hand motions in response. A strange yipping noise left his mouth. Finally, getting that Max didn’t understand anything his communication, he crossed his arms. “Hike!” he growled. He stared at Max for a long time, his eyes watering in frustration.

Max rolled his eyes. “Jesus, okay. Hike, I know. Let’s just get you back to your tent. David?”

David nodded and looked at Max with a faraway expression. “Go ahead, Max. And when you’re done, go ahead and report back to the cabins for lights-out. I’m going to have a strong word with our Quartermaster about attentiveness.”

Max complied, and quickly marched Charlie back to his tent.

“Alright, kid,” Max snapped once he was sure David was far out of earshot. “Now you stay the fuck in there, okay? No more sneaking out, or David’ll have my sorry ass.”

Charlie motioned again. When Max still couldn’t grasp his language, Charlie opted for a universal gesture: a middle finger. After he’d made his statement, Charlie huffed and turned on his heel. Max narrowed his eyes as he watched Charlie storm back into his tent.

“Brat,” Max grumbled to himself, stalking away from the campers’ tents.

Max took a quick shower to wash off his sweat before heading back into the cabin. With his hair still damp, and with only a shirt and briefs on his person, he walked into his room.

“Oh!” Nikki said with a bright grin. “Dressed up for game night?”

Max nearly choked on his own breath. Before him, Nikki and Neil sat- both with varying degrees of coverage. Neil had stripped himself of both his shirt and undershirt, and Nikki sat with her socks off and her hair undone. Each of them had a few poker cards in hand.

“What the hell?” Max asked. “Nik, aren’t you supposed to be in your _own_ cabin?”

“It’s strip-poker, dummy,” Nikki laughed. “And my cabin was getting lonely. It sucks rooming alone.”

“Come on, play your hand,” Neil goaded.

Nikki threw down a hand of eights, eliciting a grumble of defeat from Neil, who tossed his losing hand on the hardwood.

“Twos,” he said miserably. “Every goddamn time- it’s always twos.”

Neil shoved his thumbs into the hem of his pants before pausing. “Wait, Max, do you want to play?”

Max let go of an amused laugh. “You know what? Fuck it. Sure,” Max said, walking to his dresser and pulling on a pair of flannel pajamas and a sweater before taking a seat on the floor next to his old friends.

“Oh, bless your soul,” Neil said, letting out a long sigh of relief before fixing his pants back upon his hips. Neil reached for his shirt. “You hear that, Nikki? Max is joining so we can start a new game. Put your socks back on.” Neil slipped both shirts back over his head.

“You’re only prolonging your suffering, Mr. Science,” Nikki clucked her tongue in a mock-chastisement as she dealt Max his hand.

It was contentment that Max felt in that moment- the feeling of being surrounded by comforting faces. He would never admit it, but he’d missed it. And such remorse felt strange, because he hadn’t even realized that it had existed before, but now he was feeling the emptiness of absence and the relief of return all at once. It was overwhelming- but in a good way.

Max examined his hand and smiled. “Hit.”

The game progressed quickly, and soon, they had all been reduced to indecency. Neil, who proved to be an awful bluffer, was down to his briefs and one sock. Max was enjoying the breeze without his shirt or sweater, and Nikki, who had hit a lucky streak, was wearing everything except for a pair of socks and her shirt.

“Alright, I’m feeling good about this,” Max declared with a wide smile. “Sure you two don’t want to fold and save yourselves the trouble?”

Neil shuddered, but nodded anyways. Nikki stuck out her tongue.

“Straight,” Max announced, tossing his cards down with a victorious grin.

Neil whined in crushing defeat, dropping his pathetic pair of sevens. “We should’ve played bridge,” he grumbled.

Nikki offered them all a moment of tense silence before brandishing her hand- a royal flush. Max’s jaw dropped, causing her to laugh impishly. “Pay up, buttercups!” she taunted.

Neil had his pants down to his ankles when David walked in.

David screamed in a very unmanly fashion, shielding his gaze. “Neil, oh my _goodness!”_

Neil yelped, stumbling back on his ass and scrambling to find cover behind one of the bunks. Max couldn’t help but howl with laughter as Neil’s face went redder than a slapped ass.

“What the heck is going on here?” David demanded, his hand still comically covering his vision.

“A wild orgy between irresponsible horny camp counselors, reminiscent of the old slasher-flick classic,” Max bit back, a wicked grin across his lips. “Tell me, David. None of the kids are drowning in the lake, are they?”

David’s hand finally dropped to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Nikki, please go back to your cabin. And dress yourselves- all of you,” he groaned. “I’ll be outside, claiming deniability.”

“And short-term memory,” Max added with a sly grin.

“Yes, and that,” David said, backing away outside.

The three called it quits after that- throwing on their clothes in a fit of amused laughs. Nikki bragged one last time before leaving. Neil made a bitter comment about ‘knowing all along that something like this would happen’, while Max put his sweater back on and slid into his shoes.

“Jeez, I thought you were just wearing that as an extra layer for the game,” Neil raised an eyebrow. “Are you going out or something?”

“Just for a walk,” Max shrugged, grabbing his cell phone.

“Oh! Sure. I’ll walk with you, if you want,” Neil offered awkwardly.

Max frowned. “Not tonight,” he said firmly, holding up his phone and hoping that Neil might understand. Neil stared at the phone for a moment before the implied meaning hit him. He then nodded, staring at his shoes and looking somewhat rejected.

“Oh- right,” Neil mumbled. “Have a good walk, then. Tell Goodplay I said hello.”

“Will do,” Max said curtly before slipping out of the cabin.

The cool night air complimented the long sleeves of Max’s sweater. His heart accelerated in his chest as he walked towards the amphitheater. By the time he’d arrived and taken his place on the stage, it felt like it was breaking free of his ribcage.

Max stared at his phone screen.

He dialed Preston’s number, and forced himself not to think about what he was doing as he hit ‘call’ and pressed his phone to his ear. The dial tones sounded like cruel Gatling-Gun rounds firing off in his ear.

Finally, the other line picked up. Max was greeted by a familiar voice- one that made his skin crawl in ugly ways.

“Yo. Who’s this?”

Max drew in his eyebrows. “Marcus? Why the ever-loving _fuck_ do you have Preston’s phone?”

“Oh- oh man! Max! Yo, I didn’t even recognize your voice, dude!” Marcus exclaimed, his smooth jovial tone grating quickly on Max’s nerves. “Sorry- let me answer your question before we get to the small-talk. So I’m assuming you know already, but it’s tech-week down here at the theater. We’ve been at the studio like, all night for the past five days. It’s kind of chaotic. Anyways, Preston’s busy working with some of the sound crew, and he asked me to hold his phone for him.”

“Right,” Max said, unconvinced.

“Yeah, we usually turn ‘em off during rehearsals, but Preston’s been super obsessed with his phone lately for whatever reason.”

Max’s doubt vanished, and he felt his heart pick up. “He has? Since when, exactly?”

“Uh, since about a week ago, I think,” Marcus said. “Oh, shit- yeah! That’s when you left for your new job, ain’t it? That’s probably why.”

Max forced his voice to keep steady. “Probably.”

Marcus hummed, apparently satisfied with his guesswork. “Well, I’m figuring so. I mean, Preston’s crazy about you, man. He talks about you non-stop. Truthfully, I ain’t ever seen nobody talk about his roommate as much as Preston does about you.”

“Oh, uh… that’s good to know,” Max said. His anger with Marcus had dissolved, if only slightly.

“Alright, well- I’ll tell him you called, dude-,”

“Fuck, wait!” Max exclaimed, suddenly remembering why he’d called in the first place. “Can’t you put him on for me?”

Marcus made a nervous sound. “I’m sorry, dude. He’s _swamped_ working with these sound guys. None of the musical cues have been synching up all day and we’ve really got to hammer that shit out because opening night is this upcoming Wednesday.”

“You’re fucking telling me that I can’t even talk to him for a minute?”

“Look, Max, I’m real sorry. I feel awful about this, I do. But Preston’s not in the best state right now. I mean-,” Marcus paused to chuckle before continuing, “-the guy just bit the head off of some poor-ass freshman actor for bothering him. I’m not really out to be next, and I’m sure _you_ don’t want to face the brunt of that man’s wrath either.”

If Max were more of a socialite, he would’ve forced out a painfully artificial laugh at Preston’s expense. But because he was an introvert who cared very little about others’ opinions of him, he instead sneered.

“I can handle my own fucking-,”

“Hey, chill out, dude. I’ll leave a message for you. It’s no hassle. And when Preston’s less stressed out and has an open moment, he can call you. How’s that sound?” Marcus suggested, his charming voice ringing out over the speakers. Max could almost see Marcus’ white-strip cleaned teeth smiling wide into his voice.

“Fine, whatever,” Max snapped. “Just fucking tell him to call me.”

“No prob, dude. Anything else?”

“Tell him… Tell him I miss him. Can you do that?” Max asked, his voice hushed as if speaking some great secret. His heart rammed again in his chest.

There was a brief pause before Marcus spoke again, “Absolutely, Max- anything for a friend.”

Max sighed. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The click of the receiver reminded him that he was alone again.

Max sat in the quiet for a long time. He half-expected Preston to call him back right away, but after ten minutes had passed, he realized that it wouldn’t be happening. Max sighed, and pulled out his phone’s music playlist.

He needed something to listen to. He needed another voice to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

The intense score of a lamenting balled soon filled the air. Even from the shitty speakers of Max’s phone, the music sounded rich and beautiful. Max sighed, and closed his eyes, letting this become his moment of peace.

_The most beautiful sound I ever heard:  
Maria, Maria, Maria, Maria…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so difficult to get these updates in on time. Honestly, it's a struggle. As I type this, I've only got 18 minutes left before technically missing my self-imposed deadlines. When I say that reviews and kudos motivate me- I mean not only to do well, but to also produce in a timely fashion. 
> 
> So an enormous thank-you to everyone who has commented. 
> 
> I follow "#the sparrow still sings" on Tumblr, or you can message me at "@max-as-hell" on tumblr.


	5. Elisa Derby Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Depictions of Anxiety  
> -Descriptions of Prescription Medication  
> -Depictions of Mental Health Disorders  
> -Violence  
> -Abusive Language  
> -Blood

Elisa Derby Lies

Max knew where he was before he could even begin to make out his surroundings.

The late afternoon sun beat like hell on his face, and his old Wal-Mart uniform had been un-tucked from his jeans. Max idly felt for the nametag on his chest, and slow, clumsy fingers unclipped it from the rough fabric of his polo. He stared at the letters, squinting as they shifted and blurred in and out of focus.

_MWAXLLE_

Max blinked.

_MAXWELL_

“The letters always swim, don’t they?”

Max couldn’t hear the voice speaking to him, but he could understand it despite. He felt as if he was somehow hearing the words telepathically.

“Preston,” Max said, and he continued to speak as if reading from the next line in a script. “Thanks for visiting me. You really didn’t have to, though.”

Max’s head slogged through the air as he lifted it to look at Preston, who was sitting beside him. He found that focusing on Preston’s face was a frustrating task. The older man’s features seemed to be morphing constantly- shimmering in and out of appearance as if they were the graphics on a holographic baseball card. One second, he’d appear as an eighteen year-old college freshman, with short chopped hair and a babyish face. The next, he looked as old and tired as he had when Max had left him; with glasses over his worn-out eyes, and his dark hair tied back into a lazy bun.

The constant changing made it impossible for Max to look directly at Preston. Rather, he was forced to look slightly above or to the side of Preston’s face. Max blinked and opted instead to stare at his own hands.

“I wanted to visit you,” Preston hummed. “I know it isn’t much, but I thought it might be nice to bring you lunch for your break.”

Preston passed Max a package. It swam in and out of form in Max’s palms. One second, it was a wrapped sandwich, and the next, it was a McDonald’s hash-brown doused in way too much salt. Max set it down on the concrete besides him, only to forget about it promptly after.

“See, now I feel like an asshole,” Max groaned. “I’ve got you bringing me shit on _your_ birthday.”

“It’s okay, Max,” Preston cracked a reassuring grin, relaxing back on his palms.

“It’s not fucking _okay,_ asshole,” Max grumbled. “I couldn’t even get the damn day off. I mean, I requested to have this off of my schedule _two months ago._ Fucking Pikeman, dude. I swear, the bastard’s out to get me.”

Preston sighed, and finding nothing comforting to say, reached out to grab Max’s hand. He squeezed it in firm reassurance, and in an instant, the abstract world around Max felt a lot more solid. “You work hard,” Preston murmured, “I’m thankful for that.”

Max looked up at Preston helplessly. His eyes focused on a strand of honey-brown hair that shone a fierce amber color in the sunlight.

Suddenly, Max remembered- there was something he desperately needed to tell Preston. Max racked his brain, but he found that his thoughts would not come to him. Rather, they swam in and out of his mind in useless fragments.

Preston’s voice pushed him out of his jungle of sub-consciousness. “The other actors want to take me out for drinks after rehearsal,” Preston said.

“Well isn’t that fan-fucking tastic for them,” Max huffed. “You know, _I_ was going to do something too.”

“Oh?” Preston asked. He had a challenging smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I mean,” Max stammered, face reddening. He averted his eyes and crushed the gravel beneath his tennis shoes. “It’s nothing big or exciting like drinks at the _gay-unicorn_ or anything, but I ordered a cake from the bakery, and there’s this movie- well, it’s not exactly a _movie,_ but-,”

A shrill, buzzing sound pierced Max’s ears. Shaky hands he barely recognized as his own pulled his denied debit card out of the pay station. A DVD box weighed like a brick in his red-painted hands. The beeping rejection boomed in Max’s ears like an alarm. He felt his breath pick up.

“I’ll tell them I can’t make it, then,” Preston said, his familiar voice bringing Max back into the present.

Max glanced back down at his hands to find that he was holding a half-eaten sandwich. He gingerly took a bite of the food, finding it utterly tasteless.

Max didn’t have to look at his watch to know that his lunch break was coming to an end. The hazy vignette surrounding his vision was getting darker, slowly flooding the scene before him. A sense of urgency sent adrenaline through his veins.

Max combed his brain hurriedly- desperate to find the words he had been intending to tell the man besides him.

The black border around his vision started to leak into the world faster- dripping down like running ink. The feeling of Preston’s hand holding Max’s dissolved. Max felt his heart pick up as the world around him began to crack apart at the seams.

He registered his own voice, a shout into the kaleidoscope of nothingness, screaming, “Preston, wait- don’t go yet!”

Preston’s voice rung out through the darkness, “Yes, Max?”

It sounded unworried.

Max opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even utter a syllable, an earthquake shook him. Chunks of the parking lot asphalt fractured away from the ground and spiraled into the blackness. The sight of Preston faded, until he looked like nothing more than an abstract fuzz of color and emotion dotting the completely black canvas. Strangely, in all of this chaos, the world was dead quiet.

Max saw the insides of his eyelids.

“Preston, I fucking miss you-,” Max gasped, the words finally freeing themselves of his throat like water in an over-pressurized fountain. “I miss you, and I want to go the fuck home! I’m sorry I was shitty to you, but I need-,”

From the sky, a voice boomed.

_“Max…”_

Preston was silent. Max was frozen.

Max forced himself to shake away the ice that crept up his spine. He grabbed at the blackness in front of him, daring Preston to take his hand. “Please, Preston! Fucking answer me, you asshole!” Max hollered. His own voice sounded oddly insulated. The last wisps of Preston dissolved in the air. Max felt something warm on his face. “Preston!” he yelled, his crackling voice a pathetic shout into the oblivion of blackness.

_“Max… Max…”_

“Preston, come back! Fuck, okay- I need you!” Max roared out finally. And amid the collapsing world, Max could make out the ghost of Preston’s voice answering him.

_“I’m right here, Max. I promise- I’ll always be right here.”_

“Max!”

Max jerked awake, gasping. Hot tears streamed down his face, and his heart rammed in his chest hard enough to crack open his ribcage. Preston’s detached voice rang in his ears like bitter steel bells. Above him, Max could make out the whites of David’s horrified eyes as the man held fast to his shoulders.

As soon as he collected himself, Max jerked out of David’s grip and flattened himself to his bunk’s headboard. He felt like a wild animal shaking out of a sedative for the first time.

Max swiped away the tears coursing down his cheeks with his trembling hands.

“Jesus- what the fuck, David?” Max asked, his hoarse voice catching in his throat. “What time is it?”

David eyed Neil’s still-sleeping form. He regarded Max with his hands up defensively, and his head bowed. “It’s four in the morning,” David whispered.

“Fuck- I’m supposed to help clean the bathrooms. Right- forgot,” Max sighed, using his fingers to brush away the hair sticking to his sweat-soaked forehead. He let go of a long breath and turned to push out of his bed. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“David-,”

“I just wanted to know if you were okay,” David said, pulling his palm away as if Max’s skin were a hot stove. “Are you okay?” he asked, slower.

Max rolled his eyes. “I’ll get over it.”

Max, wishing to shut down the conversation before it went further, turned to change into his daily uniform. Thankfully, David promptly left the cabin to let him change in peace.

Max struggled to slow his erratic breathing as he changed. The vivid images of the world shattering around him had been burned into his head- but it was quickly becoming more of a feeling than a memory. Max squeezed his own hand, trying his best to simulate the feeling of Preston’s palm over his own.

After fixing his counselor’s shirt and a jacket over his back, Max trudged outside. The morning chill seeped through the thin fabric of his coat quickly, forcing Max to suppress a wave of shivers. A light wind froze the sweat on his forehead.

“You sure you’re alright, Max?” David’s voice caused Max to jump.

“Shit, where’d you even come from?” Max hissed.

He locked eyes with David then, and saw the man’s big insightful eyes, glimmering with concern. Max let out a defeated sigh and relaxed his shoulders. “Look, David, I’m not ten anymore; one bad dream isn’t going to kill me.”

“I’m just-,”

“You’re worried. I know,” Max said, a phantom laugh leaving him.

“I always worried about you,” David said back, his firm words padded with care.

Words sat suspended between the two men like sludge and moss growing upon the still waters of a clogged pond. David look as if he were about to say something. Max looked as if he wanted to listen. But both realized that they had little time and even less emotional availability, and so dropped the notion completely.

Max stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared out into the dim skies. Though the sun had yet to peek over the lake, the pitch-black night had eased into a still dark but lighter royal blue.

“I wish I drank sometimes,” Max said suddenly.

“Why on Earth would you wish for that?” David asked, the ridges between his brows creasing deeply in concern.

Max balled up his fists, feeling the pressure against his palms, and sucked in a gulp of air. “I need a better hang-up.”

Max smiled, and excused himself to the bathrooms. He let his feet carry him to the boys’ common stall without much piloting, and slipped inside. The air within the bathroom was inordinately cold- as per usual. Max dug his elbows further into his sides.

Over by the sinks, the Quartermaster was scrubbing the scum away from the faucets.

“Uh-,” Max hummed awkwardly.

The Quartermaster’s head jerked up, and his eyes squinted. “What’re you doin’ here?” he huffed, his gravelly voice booming around the tile walls.

“David sentenced me to help you,” Max said, regaining his footing, “so here I am.”

The Quartermaster raised a brow. “Already tryin’ to replace me, is ‘e? Fine. Take that there mop and those chemicals. I ain’t got to none of the showers yet.”

Max forced a tight-lipped smile onto his face. “Right. Will do, QM.”

Max hurried away, ignoring the Quartermaster’s following comment about collecting the hair from the drains, and dragged the mop and bucket to the shower room.

As a camper, he’d hated taking showers at camp. The room was completely open and without any room for privacy sans a few flimsy curtains that lined the sides of each showering space. If a soft breeze went through, any poor boy could find his pre-pubescent body completely exposed.

Max winced at the memories, and threw his mop down. Thankfully, the showers weren’t nearly as disgusting as one might’ve expected.

Max had experienced far worse anyways- he’d often been called to cover the janitor’s shifts when he’d worked at Wal-Mart, and compared cleaning the bathrooms there, this one could’ve been considered a pleasantry. Max was almost content to let his mind drift as he worked.

But then he heard footsteps.

Max stopped mopping and turned around, only to be met with a pair of wide gray eyes.

“Kel?” Max cocked his head. “What the hell? You know it’s like, five in the morning, right?”

Kel shifted awkwardly between his feet. He bit his lower lip and squeezed a small pile of clothes against his chest. “I know,” he said, voice humming into each word like Preston’s tended to when he ran out of lines to improvise. “I… I forgot something here yesterday.”

“You’re carrying a change of clothes,” Max pointed out.

“A-aha! Which is exactly what I forgot! Which means I should be going. Obviously,” Kel stammered through his teeth, backing out of the shower room. “Sleep to get, beauty to gain. You know- the usual.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Sure, Kel,” he said, though his voice betrayed his incredulity. “Get right back to your tent, though.”

“Certainly!” Kel said before promptly turning on his heel and darting out of the room.

Max frowned, but eventually decided not to think too far into it as he went right back to mopping the dirt and soap-slick from the floor.

Max was content to work undisturbed for the following two hours, and eventually progressed from the showers to the restroom stalls. He hummed to himself as he went, somehow finding the quiet janitor’s work much more bearable than keeping track of five campers.

He’d just finished dousing the last toilet in all-purpose cleaner when a cold metal appendage tapped his shoulder.

“You’re done,” the Quartermaster said. “You did your fair share.”

“Thank fuck,” Max sighed, plunking his toilet brush back into his bucket.

“Tomorrow, same time,” the Quartermaster added as Max began to walk away.

Max’s head turned. “Excuse me?”

“I like havin’ the extra hands. You’re workin’ tomorrow, too. Pro’ly every day after that, too,” the old man said, nodding as if in fierce agreement with himself.

“No fucking way,” Max said firmly. “I did what I was supposed to. If you want a lackey, get Neil or something.”

“The Jew’s too squirrely,” the Quartermaster frowned. “No, you’ll do just fine for me. Now go and get bfore the children file in.”

Max clenched his teeth, but said little else as he made his way out of the stalls. He made a silent resolution to discuss the Quartermaster’s demands with David- hopefully he could get them shut down before they could go into true effect.

He made his way to the counselor’s cabins as the morning alarm rang out through the PA system (apparently, David had hooked the speakers to his iPod playlist, and was blasting _Here Comes the Sun_ as the campers’ wake-up call). Max watches as the freshly roused campers stumbled over their sleep-heavy feet in an attempt to get to the bathrooms first.

Charlie waved to Max as he walked by. Royce offered him a hard glare and a low, “good morning, counselor.”

Max pushed past the campers and found his way to the mess hall, hoping to pour himself some coffee before the small horde of sleep-deprived pre-teens could get to it. When he walked in, he found himself pleased to find that Neil was already sitting at the back table with two mugs of steaming coffee besides him.

Max sat down, and Neil pushed the mug closer to him in invitation.

“Figured you’d need it after waking up so early,” Neil teased lightly. “How was cleaning the bathrooms?”

“Just fucking grand,” Max sneered back.

Neil snickered and went about fixing a small stack of papers upon the table. He uncapped a red pen with his teeth and went to mark up the papers before him.

“You gave out _homework?_ Seriously, dude?”

“Science, unlike sewing, requires some modicum of _thought,_ Max,” Neil said. “Energy transfer is a hard concept to grab. I have to make sure my campers really _get it._ ”

“Hey- only _one_ of my campers sews,” Max snapped back, waggling his finger in front of Neil’s nose. “And she doesn’t even fucking like it. _And_ she’s my first scheduled activity today.”

“You complain quite a bit,” Neil raised an eyebrow, a half-amused expression dancing across his face.

“I guess I’d be pretty quiet, too, if I were a Harvard graduate and my life wasn’t a shit-tastic mess,” Max bit back.

Neil’s jaw stiffened. The older man blew air out his nose and appeared to mentally count down from ten before speaking up once more. “Well, look- whatever you’re being tasked with today can’t possibly be worse than what I’ve got on my plate. I mean- look at this chicken-scratch! I can’t read a word on this entire sheet.”

Neil waved the paper around like a white flag before slamming it back down on the table and taking the tip of his red pen to its surface. Max watched with muted interest as Neil quickly turned the white paper red.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Max’s eyes widened. “Are you even reading that shit?”

“I _can’t_ read it,” Neil huffed. “That’s a bit of the issue here. And the stuff I can read makes no sense. It’s perplexing. I mean, this camper’s a very bright young man when we work hands on. I don’t know if he’s just lazy, or-,” Neil let out another annoyed breath before throwing a fat blood-colored mark across the entire page.

Max furrowed his brow, decidedly slapping his hand down on the paper and swiping it from under Neil’s palms.

“Hey-,”

“Shut up and let me see this,” Max snapped dismissively.

Max scanned the sheet, finding it infinitely hard to read- both because of the aforementioned penmanship, and due to Neil’s marks. “God, it looks like the fucking Boston Massacre happened here,” Max clicked his tongue. He squinted hard and eyed the words slowly, letting his brain pick apart the sounds and hieroglyphs of the writing.

Neil had been right about one thing, at least: to any normal eye, this writing was not merely sloppy- but rather it was completely indecipherable.

“How old is this kid?” Max asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“He’s twelve! Which is why-,”

“Shut up,” Max snapped, raising a hand to discourage any further complaints. Max washed a theory around his head for a moment before deciding upon it. “Pretty sure this kid is dyslexic, you dick. Give me that pen.”

Neil blinked for a moment before passing Max his pen. He looked thoroughly embarrassed that he had not realized the child’s apparent disability before. Max didn’t pay mind to Neil, and quickly went to work, crossing out Neil’s marks, and writing small “OK”s in their place.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you comprehend anything on that page.”

“I can,” Max shot back. “I might not have a dual major, but I do have the power of basic context clues and enough sense to know my d’s and b’s.”

“And what granted you a great knowledge of reading and comprehension disorders?”

“Preston’s dyslexic, too,” Max rolled his eyes. “He writes- and texts- the exact same way.”

“Oh, fantastic. Another story about Goodplay,” Neil huffed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max warned. He waved the boy’s paper in the air. “Look, Neil, this kid is decently intelligent. Don’t go and make him feel like a dumbass. I mean, shit- I can’t read everything on this either, but at least I’m not about to crush his self-esteem over some backwards sentences.”

“Oh, so you’re _passionate_ about something now?” Neil spat, deep blue eyes sparking with embers.

“I’ve got a shit to give over kids who have it rough, yeah,” Max retorted.

Neil’s lip curled back. “What do you know about having it rough? You’ve never worked a day in your goddamn-,”

“I’m going to stop you right fucking there,” Max growled loudly. His voice had dropped to a level so dangerous and low, that even Neil knew to shut up.

Ten minutes passed, and the kids slowly began to file into the mess hall- hair wet and faces clean. An older-looking boy wear one of Neil’s science patches on his camp sash came ambling over to them. Max glanced at the boy’s paper and hastily decided to make quick work of it. He crumpled it up and shoved it under a napkin before the boy could see.

Neil glared at Max with wide eyes, but said nothing else.

“Counselor Neil?” the young boy tugged at Neil’s shirt. “Did you grade it yet?”

Before Neil could even breathe, Max was interrupting. “Sorry, kid, but egghead here went and misplaced it. He said it was alright, though,” Max spoke through his teeth, shrugging nonchalantly. “Personally, I don’t know what’s so damn impressive about endothermic versus exothermic reactions, but Neil seemed pretty proud of it, so your nerdy bullshit seems to have checked out I guess.”

The boy pouted, “Physics is _not_ nerdy!”

Max rolled his eyes and made a disdainful noise. “Yeah, whatever.”

Turning back to Neil, the camper grinned brightly. “Anyways, I knew you’d like it, counselor!” he chirped. With a fat smile, he thanked Neil before racing over to grab his food with the other science camp kids.

Neil sighed and fiddled with his pen. “Thanks, Max. You know, you’re pretty good with kids.”

Max flicked Neil off. “If I’m good with children, then it’s because all I do is fucking deal with them.”

Neil winced at the jab. “Point taken,” he muttered before hunching back over his stacks of papers, ditching the pen as he scanned through the rest of his campers’ answers.

Breakfast went fairly smoothly after that- with both Max and Neil silently agreeing to bury their further grievances with one another for a later date. Max poked at his food awkwardly, and downed half a pot of coffee. He had never been one for eating earlier than noon.

“Activities start in five, guys! Start cleaning up your trays so that we can start the morning!” David announced. Max rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you gonna eat that?” Max felt a finger poke his shoulder. Turning left, he was met with the shock of fiery hair belonging to Derby.

Max shrugged and nudged his tray over to her. “Go wild. But you better wash your hands before we start. I’m not dealing with greasy needles, got it?”

Derby nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, counselor!” she said, tucking into his food.

“And you better throw it away, too!” Max snapped. Derby gave him a silent thumbs-up as she stuffed a spoonful of his oatmeal into her mouth.

Max groaned. His head had started to ache- a dull reminder that he’d again forgotten all about his medication. With a sigh, Max excused himself from the bench and wandered off towards the counselor’s office. The safe where his medicine was kept had been stuffed sideways into one of the filing drawers. Max pulled the drawer out, signing his name and the date upon a sign-out sheet that David had printed out for him.

Max keyed out the buttons, absentmindedly listening to the distinct note each one played before pulling out his medication and popping them down his throat to dry-swallow. After he’d finished, he tucked the medicine back into the safe and locked it, slamming the drawer shut.

Max stood up and rubbed his temples for good measure before heading out. He was stopped immediately outside the counselor’s office door, however, by a few of his own campers.

“You’re late to activities,” Royce huffed.

“What do ya even do in there every day?” Derby asked, her cheerful tone directly contrasting with Royce’s grumpy drawl.

Max rolled his eyes. “Adult things.”

The kids exchanged mutual looks of horror, of which Max was unsure of whether he should be humored or insulted. He pocketed his hands and glared down at his campers. “I meant taking medicine, you idiotic little- you know what? No. Let’s just go to the mess hall for Derby’s camp.”

Max walked past the campers and trudged to the mess hall. On the way, Melody managed to catch up to him.

“You don’t look sick to me,” Melody observed, looking Max up and down.

 _“Actually_ , I’ll have you know that I’ve got a terminal case of fucked-up-brain-itis,” Max snapped back. Melody winced at his tone, but said nothing else, quickly falling back into step with her fellow campers.

“So can we see ‘em?” Derby asked.

“What, my medication? Hell no. They’re in the safe to keep them _away_ from you brats. If David finds you with them, I’ll be skinned.”

“Duly noted,” Royce nodded.

Upon arriving to the mess hall, Max ushered his three campers inside. Walking in, he was treated to the view of Charlie and Kel trying to sew up the holes in their own socks. Derby took a seat across from the boys, crossing her arms and plastering a deep frown over her face. Royce and Melody walked off together to find more materials.

Max shut the door behind him and sat down next to Kel.

“Home living camp is _frustrating_ ,” Kel burst out. Max raised an eyebrow as he watched Kel try to get a frayed thread through the eye of his needle.

“Don’t be a whiner,” Max said flatly. “Let me see that. I’ll show you how it’s fucking done.”

Max snatched the needle and thread from Kel’s fingers and inspected the thread carefully before sticking the frayed bit between his lips. With the slicked strands fitted together, Max aimed the thread through the eye of the needle and stuck it through.

With the needle fixed, he passed it back to Kel and nodded. “See? Just have to have a bit of control. So chill out and quit being so spazzy, alright?”

Kel stared up at Max with wide eyes, “Of course, sir.”

Max bit his lip. “What’re you looking at me like that for? Do you want me to ruffle your fucking hair or something?”

Kel, apparently not reading the hostility in Max’s tone, shrugged. “Okay.”

Max nodded awkwardly and patted the top of Kel’s head. Kel’s hair was slick. Max winced. “Jesus, kid. Why is your hair so greasy? Do you not fucking wash it?”

Kel averted his eyes and shrugged, making a weird sound somewhere between a confirmation and an ‘I-don’t-know’.

“That’s disgusting,” Max muttered, ignoring the look of guilt that flashed briefly over Kel’s face.

Max turned to Derby, who was currently trying to pick a scab with one of the needles. “Speaking of disgusting-,” he said below his breath, “Derby! Where’s the quilt?”

Derby looked up at him lazily. Charlie and Royce exchanged glances akin to the type that young students might share when a fellow classmate is called down to the principal’s office.

“It was lookin’ kinda shabby,” Derby drawled bitterly, “I was thinkin’ it would be a better doormat- ‘stead of a quilt.”

Max groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, _you_ wanted to make the quilt-,”

Derby crossed her arms in protest and stuck out her lower lip. “Yeah, because I ain’t _had_ no other choice,” she snapped. “If it’s between a quilt and some lame scarf, I’d choose the quilt any day. But if it were all _my own_ free will, I wouldn’t be doin’ none of this.”

“Jesus, do we have to do this routine every fucking time?”

“It really is distracting,” Melody piped up from the far side of the table. She seemed to be the only camper actually invested in the activity- knitting a hat furiously from a light blue spool of yarn.

“We can’t all be _home-makers_ , princess!” Derby sneered.

“Look, just shut up!” Max commanded. He swung around and stared at Charlie. “Where’s the quilt?” he asked, his tone harsh. Charlie made a few hand motions that did little else other than exasperate.

“Just fucking _point_ , kid!” Max barked. Charlie made a mocking expression before jerking his thumb towards the doors.

Max hissed a symphony of insults under his breath as he stormed away towards the front doors. Derby’s quilt had been tossed overtop the mess hall’s welcome mat. Max rolled his eyes, picking it up and examining it. There was some dirt on the fabric, but thankfully nothing broken or unstitched.

If Max was being kind, he’d admit that Derby had a point. The ragtag quilt looked as if it had been made by someone lacking basic skill, dexterity, or for that matter, _fingers_. Max had clearly helped with a few of the squares when he had been showing her how to make a stitch, but most of Derby’s independent work seemed to be falling apart.

Clumps of fabric bunched together awkwardly, and loose strings stuck out the sides. The entire blanket was a mess of mismatched color, crafted from old tablecloths and shirts that David had picked up for them at the local Goodwill.

Max shook his head and tossed the sloppily made craft at Derby carelessly. “You’ve got one hour to finish five more squares,” he snapped. He sat next to her and leaned back against the table, pulling out his phone.

He stared wistfully at the unanswered text he had sent Preston.

 **Max, 4:23 AM-** Hey, Preston. Missing U here at camp. Call soon.

Max refreshed twice before pushing away the pang of anxiety in his chest and pocketing his device. Besides him, Derby wrestled with getting her stitches to line up. Max tapped his foot impatiently for a moment as she struggled before grabbing the fabric and needle away from her.

“You’re doing this wrong. You go too fast,” Max huffed.

Derby rolled her eyes. “Sorry, counselor, but I’m afraid I ain’t care much.”

“Sucks. This is what you were signed up for, and so legally- this is what you need to do.”

“What I _need_ to do is go outside,” Derby snapped.

“Do parents not hit their kids anymore or something?” Max asked gruffly. Royce glared at him from across the room and made an indignant noise.

Derby stood up from the bench and put her hands upon her hips. “You know, you’re real lucky you’re a boy,” she said, in her voice an undertone of a stubborn correctness. “Nobody expects you to do this crap.”

“Sure they do,” Max said stiffly, fixing Derby’s uneven patchwork with deft, practiced fingers. “My roommate asks me to sew the rips in his theater costumes all the time.”

“Well sure, whatever,” Derby rolled her eyes, “But nobody expects you to _like_ doin’ it.”

“Look, kid, I fixed your stitches, okay? So just do your work,” Max groaned. “And whatever issues you have with fucking _sewing_ of all things- just know that I sincerely do not care.” Max passed the quilt and needle back to her.

Derby stared at the blanket listlessly. “I’m not doing it,” she snapped after a moment of silence.

Max furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You heard me,” Derby shot back, dropping all her supplies to the floor. “This crap is stupid! I shouldn’t be in this camp even! Just because my parents _hate_ me-,”

Something went off in Max’s head, and before he knew it, he was right in Derby’s face. His eyes were dark and hid a crescendo of bad memories and violent tides.

“You should be _thankful_ that your parents cared enough to sign your disrespectful ass into a program!” Max snarled, leaning forward to tower over Derby. Derby’s lips drew back to reveal a set of bared teeth. Max ignored the way her eyes flickered to the pin cushion behind her. He stepped forward, reaching forward to grab her arm and sit her down. “So just quit being a difficult little shit and-,”

It happened suddenly. A searing pain went up Max’s thigh, and he tripped backwards, clutching at the fresh wound.

“You little piece of shit!” Max roared, using his adrenaline as a crutch as he ripped out the sewing needle that had been lodged two impressive inches into his thigh. “Get over here!” Max growled, cursing up a storm as fire spread to the nerves in his leg.

“Catch me first!” Derby taunted, sticking out her tongue before racing out of the mess hall.

The entire room was silent. Max expected Royce to say something bitter or snarky, but the boy looked just as frozen as the others, if not more so.

“You!” Max snapped, pointing at Royce. Royce didn’t even seem to breathe as Max barked his orders. “Watch them,” he commanded as he began to limp towards the mess hall doors. He tried his best to hide any sign of the pains shooting up his leg, but a wince left him as soon as he put weight down on his right foot.

Max hobbled over to the basketball courts, offering his co-counselor presiding over it a scowl. She laughed at his expression and held out a hand to help him as he made his way over.

“Missing a camper?” Nikki asked playfully.

“You see her?” Max asked with a defeated huff.

“Sure do,” Nikki grinned pointing over to her small hoard of campers. In their ranks, Max could make out the orange flash of Derby’s unforgettably bright hair.

Derby made a quick steal from the other team before dribbling down the court and moving in for a layup. The ball sailed into the net with a graceful ease, and her team cheered.

Max sighed, “Her parents signed her up for Home Living camp,” he said, “But she only wants to play basketball.”

Nikki laughed. “I can relate, then. So what horrible thing did you tell her to make her do _that_ to you?”

Max looked down at his thigh. The blood had started to stain his jeans, but it oozed out at a rate slow enough for him to care less. He’d find a band-aid later.

“Might’ve lost my cool a little,” Max shrugged. “But I don’t care what I fucking said- I’m not getting paid enough to deal with this shit.” He chewed down on the inside of his cheek as another sting stabbed at his leg.

“It could be worse,” Nikki countered, raising a brow. “I mean, I _bit_ David the first time I met him.” 

Max huffed. “Can’t you take pity on me, just like, once?”

Nikki only laughed and shook her head.

Back on the court, Derby received a pass and threw the ball up for three points. It tapped against the backboard before knocking into the hoop. As her team made their rounds to congratulate her, she caught Max’s eyes and narrowed her own. She averted her gaze stubbornly before passing the ball to the opposing team.

“Hey, you know what her problem is?” Nikki asked.

“Sociopathic tendencies?” Max guessed.

“What? No-,” Nikki said, exasperated. “Look, everyone’s expecting Derby to be a _lady_ , and she’s not one. She’s a girl. And she’ll learn to be a lady when she wants to be one, on her own time.”

“Look, Nik, I don’t give a shit about her femininity issues. She drove a fucking needle two inches deep into my goddamned leg,” Max grumbled.

“Walk if off,” Nikki waved dismissively.

Max sighed. He stood next to Nikki in a comfortable silence for a long time, his head turning in synch with hers as they watched the pickup game. Eventually he glanced down, eyes catching a golden glint in the sunlight.

“So,” he coughed, pointing to Nikki’s engagement ring. “Your fiancée- what’s she like?”

Nikki shifted uncomfortably. “She’s… she’s great,” she replied honestly.

“But?” Max quirked an eyebrow.

“But it’s a lot to think about, you know? I’m going to be _married_ soon. Hitched. Tied-down. Ball-and-chain. All that jazz. I mean, yeah- it’s going to be to a woman I love, but sometimes it’s stressful to think about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Nikki chuckled humorlessly. She bit her lower lip for a moment before looking back up to meet Max’s eyes. Her gaze was solemn and calm, like a rocket at peak velocity- just waiting to break through the atmosphere. “You know, I could’ve used you when I was still debating on proposing. You’ve always had such a level head. You would’ve made everything so much easier.”

Nikki punched him lightly on the shoulder. Max cracked the beginnings of a smile. “So what about this girl is making you nervous?” he asked.

Nikki scowled and stared hard at the dirt beneath her boots. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for everything she needs me to be ready for, you know?”

Max frowned as Nikki spoke. It was clear to him that she was skirting about some ultimate truth, though frankly he had very little intention to poke or prod any further for it.  Still, he tried to offer some solace.

“Hey-,”

“I feel bad,” Nikki cut him off. “You’ve been worrying about me way too much, Max.”

Max looked deliberately away from her then, afraid that she might judge the concern dripping from his gaze. “Well, how ‘bout you just make it up to me?” Max asked.

“What do you need?”

Max pointed into the basketball court. “Watch her,” he said. “She’s not going to listen to me if I try to get her back into the mess hall, and I’m not ready to take another stabbing from a kid who hasn’t even hit puberty.”

“Sure, Max,” Nikki said, a smile quickly flooding back onto her face. “Just promise me you’ll clean that thing out. It’s starting to look kind of bad.”

Max pursed his lips and nodded. “Right.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day’s activities thankfully went by without a further hitch. Derby was nowhere to be found for the rest of the morning or afternoon, save for lunchtime when Max had spotted her making messes out of the mashed potatoes with Nikki’s group.

Strangely, even Kel and Royce seemed to be on their best behavior as Max took them through their camp activities.

By the time the dinner bell rang over the camp’s PA, Max had already escorted his campers to the mess hall, and was quickly making pace to the counselor’s office for a few pain-killers. The thoughts in his head rammed about his skull and bounced off the walls as if made of rubber.

Max hummed to himself as he opened the drawer and punched in the safe’s numbers. He pulled back the safe’s door and froze.

Max’s heart stopped completely. Three out of his four pill bottles had vanished.

Under his breath, he cursed: _“Shit.”_

With fear clogging his thoughts like hair in a shower drain, Max jolted up and slammed the safe door shut before racing out of the counselor’s office. He’d be dead if his mediation had somehow gotten to one of the campers. He ran to the mess hall, trying his best to replay the morning’s events in his mind- had he shut and locked the safe?

He’d thought so, but he could’ve be mistaken.

By the time he’d burst into the mess hall, most of the campers had congregated already and were eating.

Max found David standing up by the wall.

He started to walk in David’s direction, but something stopped him. He was on his last leg, and his final chance. If David found out he’d violated such a severe safety precaution, he’d be packing up by midnight. So instead, Max ran to the only other person he could trust in a situation like this.

“Neil!” Max hissed, sitting down next to the lanky man. “Neil- shit- you’ve gotta help me.”

Neil’s brow drew in, and he frowned. Bright blue eyes scanned the distressed expression on Max’s face. “W-what? What the hell are you talking about?”

“My fucking pills, Neil!” Max snapped. “They’re gone!”

Neil’s eyes popped out of his skull. “You lost your-,”

“Keep your fucking voice down, or I swear- I’ll make you regret your conception,” Max cut him off with a low, venomous whisper.

Neil nodded and swallowed hard before matching Max’s volume. “Sorry. Shit, where could they be?”

Max clasped his hands together and squeezed them until his knuckles went white. “Fuck, I don’t know!” Max whimpered. “My anti-depressants, my insomnia meds, my anti-anxiety; it’s all fucking gone. The only thing left in there is a half-empty bottle of Excedrin.”

Neil stiffened his jaw. He settled a hand on Max’s and held it firm. Max’s shoulders fell.

“It’s okay. We’ll get it in order. I’m going to talk to my campers to see if anyone knows anything, alright?” Neil said. His voice was calm, but grounded.

Max nodded wordlessly, choking down a rising sob.

Neil excused himself from the table and walked briskly to his own campers, trying to seem as discreet as possible to keep below David’s radar. Max watched listlessly as Neil sat down and talked to his group.

“Counselor Max?”

“What-,” Max jolted. It took him a second to focus on the young face before him. It belonged to a freckled girl with a shock of bright fiery hair.

“I’m sorry for scarin’ ya,” Derby muttered. She looked away, refusing adamantly to make eye-contact with Max. “Are you alright though? You’re lookin’ kind of upset.”

“I’m fine, Derby. Go back to sitting with Nikki’s group,” Max growled. “I really don’t have the mind to deal with your crap right now.”

Derby winced, but stood firm. “Sir, I-,”

“Go, Derby. Now,” Max ordered.

It was then that Neil came back, a frown upon his face. “None of them say they saw anything. I don’t blame them, either. We were at the science pavilion all day. I even talked to Nikki, and she said that she never let her campers out of sight.”

Something clicked in Max’s brain. He whipped his head around to glare at his four remaining campers, who were each huddled over a tray of nearly-inedible food. His furious eyes then found Derby, who seemed suddenly much less confrontational.

“This is your fault, you-,” Max stopped himself before he could let the word out in David’s presence.

He stood up and stormed over to his other campers, fists clenched. Kel noticed him first, and stopped mid-sentence to shrink back into the bench. Max sat down across from Royce, his narrowed eyes drilling holes into the rebellious boy’s skull.

“I don’t know which one of you took it,” Max said lowly. “And I don’t know why, either. Frankly, I don’t give a care. But it’s going to be returned to my cabin by nightfall. Understand?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Royce said, lip twitching in self-satisfaction.

“If I get fired because of you-,”

“Fired because of yourself,” Royce corrected. “Whatever happened, it’s none of our faults. And even if it is, _you_ were the one who left us unsupervised for an hour during morning activities.”

“Royce, I swear-,”

“Do you want me to talk to counselor David and see if he can help you?” Royce asked, his voice edging closer to the sharp side.

Max gritted his teeth before wordlessly stalking away. Even in his anger, he could see that he didn’t have anywhere near the right amount of leverage to stake an accusation of guilt. He sat down next to Neil and Derby.

“I’m going to kill them,” Max breathed.

“What’s wrong?” Derby asked.

“Quiet, you,” Max snapped.

“Did they take it?” Neil questioned.

“I’m pretty sure they did,” Max sighed. “But I can’t even be pissed. I must’ve left the door open or something. Because there’s no other way to get in, and I doubt they guessed the combination code.”

Max pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed in short, stiff circles. The repetitious massage did him little solace, but it at least gave him something to focus on. The world seemed to be spinning around Max, falling away into chunks of nothingness like it had in his dream.

Max closed his eyes and fished into his pocket. Shaky hands found his phone, and shakier fingers screwed in his ear-buds. Max donned the headphones and let the music from his phone offer him something to center his gravity of attention upon.

He could vaguely make out the sensation of Neil running light fingertips against his shoulders. Max tried to jerk away from the touch, but found himself too exhausted to care.

Derby ran off, possibly to hide herself back among the ranks of Nikki’s group. Max didn’t care. In the span of less than twenty-four hours, he’d been stabbed, mouthed off too, and was now in the running to potentially lose his _second_ job.

Suddenly, a foreign pressure tapped his back. Max opened his eyes, unsure if he should be relieved or not that the world had not crumbled around him. He pulled out his ear-buds and looked up, resigned as he met the stern expression of David.

“Royce told me you have a problem,” David said. “Would you like to explain?”

“Shit, David, I-,” Max stammered, feeling a cold sweat upon his neck. He closed and opened his fists, teeth grinding harshly upon each other. “Okay, okay. I’m good now. Sure-,” Max said, more to himself than to David. He opened his mouth to confess, finding the air increasingly thinner around him.

It was then that Derby came running up with three bottles of pills. “Wait!” she said. “I found ‘em!”

David’s eyes went wider than saucers at the sight of Max’s medication. “Excuse me? You _found_ them?”

Max felt like a freight train had hit him. He forced himself to soothe the stutter in his breathing. Derby smacked the pill bottles down on the table. “Royce and Kel took ‘em,” she declared, pointing to the boys. The two looked hardly perturbed, glancing over for a moment to gauge their situation before returning to their meals.

David glowered at Max. “I’m sorry, but how on earth did they get to those? Max, would you care to explain?”

Max winced. “I must’ve not locked it, or-,”

“Actually,” Melody spoke up from behind him. “It was locked. I opened it. We were listening through the door, and we noticed that each button made a different sound. Royce dared me to see if I could really open it based on the pitch alone. Clearly, I did.” She looked awfully proud of her achievement, her smile wide and catlike.

Max stared wide-eyed at her; though she hardly regarded him otherwise save for a small nod. He swallowed hard, hoping his silence might be his thanks.

David’s expression was slowly melting. “When did this happen? You know Max is responsible for watching you kids at all times, right?” David said, clearly speaking right past Max and instead to his campers. Derby sighed and crossed her arms, making it a point to turn away from any direct eye-contact.

“It’s my fault,” Derby said. “I… I went and stabbed him with one of them sewing needles from the Home Living camp and ran off. So he was spendin’ the hour trying to convince me to come back to the mess hall.”

Max felt his heart-rate pick up at Derby’s lie. He stared up at David, wondering how well the head counselor seemed to be buying it. Thankfully, David sighed and nodded. He knelt down to find eye-level with the girls.

“I appreciate your honesty,” David said softly. “Melody, I’m sending you off with a warning. You never, _ever_ do anything like that again, okay?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. I proved my point just fine,” Melody said, sticking her tongue out at Royce.

“Okay. And Elisa? May I talk to you in private?” David asked, setting a reassuring hand on Derby’s shoulders.

“Yeah, okay. Can I say something to Mister Max, though?” Derby asked softly. David nodded and let her go, standing back up to observe the girl. Suddenly, Derby looked incredibly small. Her hair, which had only moments before looked like fire, now reminded Max of something softer, like a sunset.

The girl nodded and swallowed hard to steady herself. She looked up at Max and sucked in her cheeks before speaking up.

“I’m real sorry, counselor,” she apologized sincerely. “I shouldn’t’ve acted like that to you. I was a real brat. I don’t mean to be so difficult all the time. Really.”

Max nodded, voice so caught in his throat, the only words he could muster up were, “Thank you.”

David looked at Max and nodded towards the medication. “Take those to the safe,” he said, “and change the code, please.”

David’s expression was unreadable, but as long as he wasn’t being fired, Max could care less.

“Sure thing,” Max said, grabbing the bottles and making his way out.

As soon as he left earshot of the mess hall, Max felt his lungs collapse in relief. He suddenly felt the cool evening air on his skin, and the sensation of wind brushing though his hair. Max took in a deep breath, relishing in the smells of dirt and pine around him.

His breathing had long steadied by time he arrived at the counselor’s office. He entered, shut the thin screen door, and headed over to the drawer. Depositing his meds back into the safe, Max locked and changed up the code.

A knock at the door made him jump.

“Shit, who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Neil replied. “Can I come in?”

Max sighed. “Sure, dude. Come on. Did you need something?”

“Kind of. I was thinking it over at dinner, and I’m pretty sure I know how to make the safe silent. That way nobody _sounds_ their way into it again,” Neil chuckled lightly, brandishing a screwdriver and a pair of wire clippers. “May I?”

“Sure.”

Neil smiled, ordering Max to open the safe. Once open, Neil inspected the inside of the security mechanism. The older man quickly unscrewed the back panel and stared at the wires connecting the buttons to the lock. He prodded at the wires for a moment, and Max watched him with a muted disposition as he worked.

“So, uh, hey-,” Neil spoke up, keeping his eyes on the circuit board. He split a few cords away from the others. “Are you alright? After what happened with this whole medication thing, I mean.”

Max sighed and grabbed a pen off of the computer desk, flipping it around his fingers absentmindedly. “I think my campers hate me,” Max said with a short, deadweight laugh. “Not that I give a shit, obviously, but I’ll bet my job would be a hell of a lot easier if they didn’t go out of their way to try and get me fired.”

Neil laughed, though there wasn’t much of a joke in Max’s tone. “I’d have to agree with you,” he nodded. Neil grabbed the clippers and severed a few wires, smiling at his handiwork in satisfaction. “Here, should be all good now. Wanna test it?”

Neil shut and locked the safe, stepping aside to let Max fiddle with the buttons. Max entered his new code, pleased when no sound emitted from the pushed buttons, and opened the safe door for a moment before closing it back up again.

“Thanks,” Max said.

Neil nodded. He stared at the closed safe for a moment before looking back up at Max. “Do you think Preston ever wanted kids?” Neil asked.

“How should I know?” Max retorted sharply.

“I don’t know,” Neil shrugged. “I think I’d want them, though.”

“Yeah, cool,” Max let loose a heavy breath, “And hey, dude, can you like- not talking about fucking Preston, though? I mean, like, no offence, it’s starting to feel like my life has been beginning and ending with the guy lately. It’s starting to make me physically ill.”

“Sorry,” Neil apologized. He paused a bit before continuing. “But hey, Max? When we get a day free, you, Nikki, and I should go out for a drink in the city. On me.”

Max stared into the huge bovine eyes of his old best friend and smiled. The expression came easy to him, like walking or breathing did.

“Yeah, sure, Neil,” Max said, his tone almost quiet. “That sounds great.”

The two found their way back to the cabin, speaking easily to one another as if no time had passed since they themselves had been campers. Max wondered what had shifted in Neil since the morning, but if it meant the older man would be tolerable to deal with, Max didn’t care what had caused it.

Max switched into his sweatpants and pocketed his cell. He reached for his coat.

“You going somewhere?” Neil asked, though both men knew the answer.

“I’ve got to make a call,” Max shrugged.

Neil frowned and released a heavy sigh. Worry and heartache filled his voice like the water in a sinking ship. “Max, you can’t keep doing this. You said it yourself- you can’t keep cramming your life between moments of Preston. It’s not healthy-,”

“I told _you_ not to talk about him. I didn’t say jack shit about me calling him directly,” Max snapped. “You know, I’m beginning to think that you’re only so obsessed with him because you’re fucking jealous.”

“I’m not obsessed with him, and I am _not_ fucking jealous!” Neil roared- his voice so loud and tumultuous, even Max seemed to back away.  “I’m just sick and fucking tired of seeing you look so torn up about this guy who obviously doesn’t give a shit about you!”

Max froze. He felt his own blood rush to his head and crash in his ears. “Don’t say that, dude. Preston cares,” he said, though he felt the words far too hollow to hold any real conviction.

“Does he?” Neil snapped, bitterness lacing his cutting rhetoric.

Max’s breath faltered. He stopped reaching for his coat. His phone suddenly felt like a dead weight in his pocket. “Fuck, Neil. I’m sorry. I’m just anxious, that’s all,” Max said. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at the notifications panel.

It was starting to become a scoreboard for the pity that happened to be Max’s life. But Max poured over the data anyways. He stared at the screen:

16 out of 17 calls had gone through unanswered.

30 out of 30 texts had gone read, but without a single letter of reply.

Max felt his heart sink.

Neil pulled Max from his thoughts. “So what do you usually do when you’re anxious?” Neil asked, getting up from his bunk and moving to stand between Max and the doorway.

Max laughed crossly. “You’re going to hate it,” he said, “but… Preston. He holds my hand. Stupid, right? But like, he holds it really firmly, and it tells me that he knows I’m going to be okay. It’s gay as fuck, but… it works.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Neil said honestly, a frown upon his face. He moved hesitantly at first, but eventually he gained enough courage to reach out and take Max’s palm in his own. He squeezed gently, and Max didn’t push him away.

“Like this?” Neil asked.

Max didn’t respond with words. He feared slightly that if he spoke, Neil would hear the wobbliness that was sure to be present in his tone. So instead, he just nodded.

“Stop calling Preston,” Neil advised, leading Max back to his bunk. He sat Max down as if the shorter man were in a catatonic state, and took up the space on the bed right next to Max. “He’ll talk to you when he wants to.”

“It’s hard to be so fucking far away from him when he’s not responding to me,” Max sighed. “And it never fucking used to be like this. I don’t know what changed.”

That was a lie- Max knew exactly what had changed: Preston had told him that he loved him. And in a panic, Max had rejected him.

Still he couldn’t blame himself completely for being afraid. Love was terrifying, and it made him feel like someone was beating at his chest with a metal slugger. Love and sadness were odd emotions in that way—unlike happiness or anger, they had a strange power to make one physically ail.

And Max didn’t know whether it was love or sadness pushing down on his chest and tying his ribcage together with barbed wire, but he had never felt quite like that before.

So, without a single ounce of fight left in him, Max simply stared at his old best friend, and tried to take in the way the light bounced off of Neil’s neatly brushed hair. He shut his eyes, and it felt like the world was falling apart.

He spoke so quietly, Neil almost missed him. “Thank you, Neil.”

Neil smiled and squeezed Max’s palm again. “It’s okay, Max,” Neil hummed. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took two extra weeks to write this. On one hand- I apologize in full! On the other-- Whew, have I been not sleeping. I've been swamped with school and college applications, and I've basically been living on the couch in my basement (where I do homework until inevitably passing out on my textbooks). Also considering this chapter is literally huge-- clocking in at just over 9,400 words-- I think I did okay on time!
> 
> Enormous thank you to everyone who commented!
> 
> An even bigger thank you to everyone who kudos'd! Ya'll managed to get this story under the first page of the "most kudos'd" fics for a solid week, and I couldn't be happier.
> 
> A special thank you to my good friend, Shay, who made an amazing game demo of the drunken scene in chapter two.   
> And a huge special thanks to Spencer (https://droppinbops.tumblr.com/) who made an amazing AMV based upon this story! Folks like them make inspiration easy to find.


	6. Max is Pavlov's Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Sexual Jokes  
> -Depictions of Anxiety  
> -Depictions of Trauma  
> -Implied Abuse  
> -Alcohol Use  
> -Issues Pertaining to Asexuality  
> -Depictions of PTSD

Max is Pavlov's Dog

Max wrestled with the rusted wires of the chain-link fence. He cursed and swore as the sharp ends bit into his fingers and left indents on his palms. The year prior, some camper had cut a hole through the fence blocking off the camp’s power generator. And as per the standard, they were _just now_ getting to repairing it.

“What could some kid _possibly_ want with some goddamn-,” Max growled as he ripped back at the steel wire, knotting it in place firmly with an old pair of pliers, “-shitty oversized electrical box?”

“They’re damn rascals,” the Quartermaster said, shaking his hook as if chastising some camper-long-past. “They’ll do anything for a little chaos. It makes them feel _alive_.”

Max rolled his eyes. After spending more time with the Quartermaster, he’d efficiently gained a solid immunity to the weird pathogens of speech that were often expelled from the ancient groundskeeper’s mouth.

This was his job now- and learning how to deal with it had been vital to his sanity.

It wasn’t as if he particularly enjoyed the manual labor (or the QM’s company), but after the medication issue, David had concluded that Max probably _shouldn’t_ be with his campers throughout the entire day. He’d switched a few schedules up, and had ordained that during the free activity hours between lunch and dinner, Max’s five odd campers would be under Nikki’s watch. And Max would be at the bidding of the Quartermaster.

Still, nobody was awfully upset about the new arrangements. Nikki was more than happy to expand her responsibilities, and Max was hardly willing to complain about some much-needed quiet time. Even his campers seemed pleased about the opportunity to work with a new counselor.

The collective five of them had gone an entire week without causing trouble. In Max’s eyes, that was no less than a miracle.

“Jus’ a little more, son,” the Quartermaster ordered. “Them two’s on the bottom ain’t tied down right.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max huffed. He gripped the loose wires at the base of the fence and twisted them until they’d linked properly together. “I swear, I’m going to get fucking rust poisoning from this shit. Don’t we have any fencing that isn’t recycled?” he grumbled as the metal tore into the flesh of his exposed hand.

The Quartermaster scoffed, “Ain’t nothing a lil’ tetanus shot can’t fix. If you’re so eager for new fencing, it can come out of your paycheck.”

Max made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, but didn’t comment further. He stood up, wiped some of the sweat from his face, and backed up to admire his handiwork.

While he certainly wasn’t any reincarnation of Tim Taylor, Max had to admit that he’d done some fairly solid work for his first fencing repair job ever. If he squinted hard enough, the fence even began to look as if it had never been torn up in the first place.

“Well?” Max asked. “It’s a damn good job, right?”

“I will regard this work with moderate satisfaction and no more,” the Quartermaster decreed. He pulled a flask from his vest and popped the cap. Max was suddenly slapped with the raw smell of something acidic and vinegar-y.

“I’m taking my break. Go put away that there extra fencing and then you can wind down until Red Knees calls for dinner.”

Max nodded and watched as the Quartermaster hobbled off back towards the camp. As soon as the old man was gone, Max took in a deep breath and bent down to collect the last scraps of the used chain-link fencing. He balanced the rolled-up bundle of metal and poles over his shoulder, hooked the pliers around his belt loops, and trudged away to the storage barn.

The camp’s storage unit stood about thirty yards away from the docks. It was a fairly large barn blanketed from base to roof shingles in a thick layer of moss, and held enough room inside to fit a disorganized heap of metal, wood, and rope; along with a band saw, a drill press, and a toolbox almost as tall as Max himself.

Max tossed the bundle of rusted fencing into the heap of materials, and rolled the strain out of his shoulders.

His sore and overexerted muscles wanted badly to heed the words of the Quartermaster and take a break, but he forced himself to keep busy. Relax meant having time to think, and having time to think would only make his thoughts drift back to Preston.

He had been doing so well, too. He’d listened to Neil for a while, and he’d managed to go a few good days without acting on impulse, but eventually the bile in his gut had risen to his throat. He hadn’t indulged in much to be ashamed of- only a single text. Nine words, thirty five letters:

 **Max, 8:24 AM:** good morning. Missing u. text back when u can.

That much had satisfied him. He would have been fine with the infinite silence following. Hell, he’d sent thirty texts before that- of which all had been left on read without a single response.

But then Preston had texted back.

 **Preston, 8:32 AM:** I terridely sore y, how mignt the is de?

Preston’s dyslexic typing was instantly recognizable. The stubborn actor had turned off his phone’s auto-correct system the instant he’d gotten it, claiming that he’d not succumb to technological aids for his poor work with words. This meant that as per usual, Max had to sound the words out loud as they were written, mentally flipping the b’s and d’s. Slowly, he’d deciphered the text:

_“I’m terribly sorry, who might this be?”_

Max’s hands had shaken as he’d texted back:

 **Max, 8:33 AM:** it’s max.

A million ideas had raced through his head as he wondered whether Preston was simply being stubborn and petty, or whether he’d gone and deleted Max’s number all together and truly didn’t know who was messaging him.

It had taken Preston another two hours to send the next message.

 **Preston, 11:23 AM:** busey- don’t text bakc.

The message had forced the already ill taste in Max’s tongue down past his throat and clogged it in his lungs. He felt like a stone had been dropped on his chest as he repeated the message to himself over and over again in his head.

_“Busy, don’t text back.”_

Max had tried to ignore the feeling of his heart being zip-tied, and went on to fix up Derby’s cross stitches. The girl was certainly getting better at her work now that she was showing less of a protest over it. Max remembered idly how he used to sew up Preston’s old theater costumes when the actor would inevitably rip them.

_“Busy, don’t text back.”_

He swallowed down his guilt and regret, which tasted something like stale spit, and focused on supporting Kel as the boy practiced a back-walkover across the amphitheater floor. The bright lights in Kel’s eyes as he graduated to performing the maneuver on his own looked almost exactly like those that would shine in Preston’s when he’d delivered a line _just right._

_“Busy, don’t text back.”_

Seven hours past the text, and Max was forcing himself to assess the state of the Camp Campbell storage barn. He ignored the creeping notion that yet again, he’d let Preston become both the capital letter and the period in his life.

Max got down on his hands and knees and started pulling out the materials in the back of the shed. He threw them into piles, categorizing each plank, rod, and shard as a wood, metal, or ‘miscellaneous’ object respectively.

Max liked this. Not a thing about the barn- not the damp smell of mildew, nor the hot, stuffy air- could bring him back to Preston Goodplay. He was isolated here- trapped in the mental numbness brought upon by the splinters of organization and the smell of collected dust.

He’d gotten nearly halfway done with the stack when he’d noticed something. The wood he was pulling from the diminished heap was soft and damp, as if made of paper mache.

Max furrowed his brows and grabbed a plank of tan lumber, holding it firm between his two hands. Experimentally, he jammed his knee under the center of the plank and pushed down with his hands. To his expected horror, the wood split as if the sinews holding it together had been made of wet cardboard.

Max drew his lip back in distaste. He grabbed another piece of wood and winced when it broke like sand between his fingers.

Max moved to dig down further, but just as he’d begun to close around the next board, a high-pitched bell rang over the camp’s PA system- the dinner call.

Max’s stomach growled as if the noise had summoned it.

Relenting, Max sighed and stood straight up, brushing the chips of rotted wood from his jeans. He stared at the pile of waste for one last fleeting second before frowning and taking his leave. He’d have to talk to David about that sometime soon.

Max ambled to the mess hall, arriving along with the last of the stray campers.

Grabbing his tray of rubber-textured chicken and rice, Max headed to his usual spot and plopped down. It came as a washing relief for him to sit- his sore body had been more than worked out while doing the Quartermaster’s bidding.

Shortly after Max had taken his seat, the rest of his company began to fill into theirs. Royce and Kel occupied a place at the far end of Max’s table, where they could conspire in moderate privacy. Melody found a spot on Max’s left, and Charlie plunked down at his right. Max almost caught himself glancing around for Derby, until remembering that she had started sitting next to Nikki’s group ever since the younger counselor had started watching her.

Neil looked busy and in the midst of moderating a squabble between two of his campers, but Max knew he’d drift over eventually.

“Counselor-,” Melody piped up, shaking Max out of his thoughts. She pushed her food away to properly hunch over a blank sheet of music. “I was thinking that for my sonata that I’m writing, I want to have an overarching theme. Does that seem like a good idea?”

Max kept his mouth shut, waiting patiently for Melody to answer her own question- as she was apt to doing as of late.

“Of course it is,” Melody nodded in self-satisfaction. “Likewise, I was thinking it should be in the key of A-minor, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea for the _mood_ I’m trying to go for.”

Max waited again, simply holding eye contact with her as she rambled.

Melody muttered to herself for a moment before grinning suddenly. “No, no. C-major. Yes, that’s better. Thank you, counselor.”

“Anytime,” Max hummed softly.

He watched with a muted interest as Melody furiously scribbled a collection of dots and circles upon her paper. He would’ve been fine to let her to her own devices, but then his eyes caught her still-untouched food tray. He sighed. Melody and Royce almost never ate during mealtimes, and it was starting to really concern David.

Frankly, Max couldn’t care less what his campers did so long as they didn’t drop dead, but if this was a problem enough to worry David, then it was a problem enough to worry his job security.

Max tapped Melody’s shoulder.

“You better eat, kid,” he said. “David’s gonna have my as-er- _backside_ if you don’t.

“I’m not hungry,” Melody protested.

“Sucks,” Max said bluntly. He nudged the tray of food closer to her.

“It’s too early to eat, though,” Melody whined. She pushed the tray back, adamantly refusing to look Max in the eyes.

“It’s six-thirty. That’s plenty late.”

Melody shook her head furiously. “Well actually, I’m not hungry until ten or eleven at night. That’s when my parents get home from their jobs.” Melody pressed her pencil down hard and broke a hole through the paper. She huffed in agitation.

“I don’t care,” Max snapped, feeling his irritation rise. “You’re on a new circadian rhythm here, kid. Get freakin’ used to it.”

“Actually-,”

Max growled and yanked the blank sheet of paper from under Melody’s pencil. He slapped it down on the other side of his body and glared at her. “Eat.”

Melody glowered at Max, looking something like she might start crying. She sucked in a furiously shaky breath before blinking away her frustration and stabbing her fork into her chicken. Max winced.

After two minutes of a relatively tense silence had passed, Neil started making his way to the table. He smacked his tray down on the flat faux-wood and sat down at the bench, and grinned from ear-to-ear.

Max raised a brow. “The fuck is that look for?”

“What, you’ve never seen a happy man?”

“Oh, I have. Just not in you,” Max countered.

Neil rolled his eyes, though he didn’t seem bothered by the jab. He leaned in and spoke as if he’d uncovered some great scientific truth, and was trying to keep his guaranteed Nobel Prize from being stolen by a prying ear. “David said yes,” he said simply, buzzing with eagerness.

“Yes to _what?”_

“A demonstration on the catastrophic effects of hydrogen fluoride, clearly,” Neil deadpanned before breaking back into his wide grin. “David said that after tonight’s hike, we’re allowed to go _out._ As in, out of camp. We can take the car and everything!”

“God, you sound like a fucking teenager,” Max huffed, though the concept of leaving for a night did pique his interest.

Neil brushed off the insult with a wave of his hand. “Shut up. Don’t you think it would be nice to have a break from this godforsaken camp for a night?”

“It would be,” Max agreed sagely. “How in the hell did you even get David to sign off on that idea? Who’s going to keep track of the campers?”

“It’ll be past eight, so most of the campers will be turning in anyways. David’s going to keep watch with the Quartermaster. He only said that we’d have to be back by morning calls tomorrow, and to refrain from coming back drunk.”

When excited, Neil talked with his hands as if he were an elementary school teacher trying his best to get the point across. Max couldn’t tell if he found the trait endearing or annoying. Either way, Neil’s eyes shone when he talked, and for whatever reason, Max couldn’t bring himself to dampen that.

“So how long is tonight’s hike, then?” Max asked. “If it’s longer than an hour, count me as a hard pass.”

Neil grinned. “Twenty minutes, there and back,” he said.

“Why so short?”

“Don’t know. We’re going over a real rocky patch of land apparently, so I’ll wager that David just wants us to get familiar with the location before we climb around it.”

“Fine,” Max sighed, as if agreeing to some tedious chore. “I’m in.”

Neil whooped in victorious cheer and dug into his food eagerly. Max picked at his own meal, eating just enough to sate the digestive system currently staging its revolt inside his gut.

He eyed Neil as he ate. He’d come to notice something about Neil that had interested him over the few weeks they’d shared together. The older man had stopped slouching so much. The sucker-punch bruises beneath his eyes were beginning to heal. He didn’t rub his hands raw when he was nervous, and he was quicker to smile.

Max would have never considered Neil a messy person when he’d seen him for the first time, but now that he’d been offered a frame of reference, it was a revelation that was hard to un-see.

A tug at his shirt threw him from his thoughts. Max turned, only to lock contact with Charlie’s wide blue eyes.

“Hike,” Charlie said. He looked like he was trying to force out more words, and had a look about his face as if experiencing major constipation in the process. Giving in, he pointed to himself and then made a walking motion with his fingers.

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, feigning the kind of understanding an adult listening to a baby’s babble might.

Charlie groaned and shook his head. He tapped Max’s shoulder furiously, his annoying pokes turning quickly into light punches.

Max scowled. “Kid, do that one more time and I’ll-,”

“You’ll _what,_ counselor?”

Max groaned. “Jesus Christ, Royce. Can’t you mind your own business for one freaking minute?”

“Just making sure you’re following disciplinary guidelines, sir,” Royce sneered from across the table. “Surprisingly, you can’t just choke every camper out by his collar when they do something you don’t like.”

Max felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He glanced towards Kel, who stared back at him with the coldest of blank expressions.

Max gritted his teeth and stared down at his own hands. “Eat your food, Royce.” He ordered.

Guilt rose in his chest, but he knew that he’d feel even worse trying to absolve it with a hollow apology. So he said nothing more, turned back towards his meal, and ate in quiet for the remainder of the hour.

The hike came right after dinner. As the campers began to head back to their tents to wind down, the three co-counselors walked in the opposite direction and gathered themselves by the forest entrance. Max could’ve sworn he was being tailed, but quickly discarded the paranoid notion to prepare himself for the trek ahead of him.

He was almost proud of himself. Lately, he’d been faring much better when at the mercy of the woods. He’d stopped falling so often in the lack of light, and he’d stopped being quite so out of breath. He was even beginning to _enjoy_ the exercise- though he’d never admit it.

David found his way to the mouth of the forest and greeted the co-counselors with a bright smile.

“Well, you all certainly look eager!” he remarked. “I know you three have big plans for tonight, so I’ll make this a quickie!”

“I always thought you’d be the type to take it _slow_ , Davey,” Max taunted. “You haven’t even bought us dinner yet.”

“Maxwell!”

The three co-counselors snickered at the red flooding up David’s face, and gingerly let the flustered man lead them into the thick of brambles and pines.

Ever since they’d gone to the gorge, David seemed a lot less heavy in his step. Though he still emphasized the importance of navigating the wildlife, he seemed to be more interested in the enjoyment one might gain from the presence of nature rather than the dangers one should be wary of. He walked with his guard down, far too lost in his discussion of the different types of coniferous trees to notice much else.

Max slowed down to tie his jacket around his waist.

“Keep your eyes up, Max!” David said. “We’re getting close to the rocks! It’s easy to get tripped up there, so please be careful. Most of these rocks here are actually sedimentary, and thus…”

Max rolled his eyes as David went off into a tangent, and instead paid his mind to keeping his eyes off the dirt floor. It helped to walk with confidence. His boot snagged only twice on some dried out tree roots, and he was able to snap the plant with a quick jerk of his ankle without losing stride.

The rocks that soon came into view were huge. They jutted awkwardly out of the forest floor, and hid small gaps by which a skinny enough person might be able to climb through.

A wide river cut through the mass of stones, its stream coursing rapidly enough to discourage any crossing.

“-So this river is the same one we looked at during our first few hikes,” David explained. “It’s extremely fast-moving and deceptively deep, so it’s important to know exactly where it extends to.”

“Do you think a kid might fall in or something?” Max asked.

“You can never be too careful,” David said, a haunted expression flashing across his face so briefly, it could’ve been imagined.

David shook out of his daze quickly, plastering on a huge smile, and patting Max’s shoulder heartily. “In any case, we’ll examine this more on our next hike! Let’s get you counselors back so you can have the rest of the night to yourselves!”

David turned on his heel and walked away quickly. Max jogged up to meet him. He spoke awkwardly, but with a genuine concern. “Hey, are you alright? Not like I care-,”

“Of course you don’t,” David said with a knowing smile. “I’m great, though. Don’t worry yourself. I can’t keep having meltdowns every time I’m reminded of a sour memory, now can I?”

Max felt a twist in his gut, but shook his head anyways. “No, I guess not.”

“Funny thing is- none of this used to bother me,” David remarked, almost bitterly. “I’d almost forgotten about the whole incident, even. It’s just this year that I-,”

David broke off to laugh. “Never mind, actually. You wouldn’t really care about my silly personal issues.”

“David, I-,”

The sound of a sudden crack ringing out behind them stopped Max mid-sentence. He and David whipped around towards the noise. In the distance, they could see a splash of vibrant yellow against the forest floor. A small, twisted body lay there attached to it. Max’s eyes went wide.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking with me-,”

Max caught Nikki’s eyes, and they both shared a nod before sprinting to the body. As they approached, a cacophony of wails and sobs hit their ears. Max bit his lower lip.

There, splayed across the ground, was Charlie. The boy’s rubber boot had caught on a crack in the jags, and had left him with a grossly twisted ankle. Max knelt down next to the boy, inspecting him for any further injuries. Thankfully, minus the main injury, he had only sustained a few odd scratches and bruises.

“Shit- why is it always my fucking campers?” Max hissed, carefully unhinging the boy’s foot from the ground. Charlie’s yells of pain finally stifled as Max lifted him up and set him upon his back. 

“Are you okay, buddy?” Nikki asked, carefully fixing Charlie’s hair away from his eyes. “That’s some trip you had.”

Charlie waved his hands about for a moment. Nikki stared at him blankly. Charlie burst out into more tears.

“Jesus, what’s _wrong_ with you kids?” Max spat, just softly enough to avoid David’s radar. He hadn’t meant to say it meanly, but he couldn’t stop the sharpness in his voice from breaking through.

“Let’s go, counselors. Quickly now,” David demanded. The older man’s face was beaded with sweat.

Max frowned, but complied with the command without a single word of protest. “David, are you-,”

“Let’s _go_ ,” David snapped, cutting Max off.

Max recoiled at the harsh tone, and set his eyes on the grass ahead of him. Nikki walked closely besides him, keeping a soothing hand on Charlie’s back to support the distressed boy. The camper’s cries had silenced for the most part, and he rested his head on Max’s shoulder. Through his shirt, Max could feel the stutters still evident in Charlie’s breathing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said softly. “Quit crying. You brought this upon yourself, kid. What were you even doing out there?”

Defeated as he was, Charlie only shrugged.

They arrived at the counselor’s office promptly. David pulled Charlie out of Max’s grip and cleared away a stack of papers on the desk to make room for the camper. He bent down to remove Charlie’s boots, but as soon as he put a hand upon the boy’s foot, Charlie whimpered.

Max rolled his eyes. “Come on, man up,” he said firmly. A look from Nikki made him amend his speech, “I mean, _toughen_ up.”

Charlie sucked in a breath and nodded; however, he was howling again as soon as David even moved to touch him. Max rolled his eyes. “Fine, okay. Here-,” Max untied the jacket around his waist and bunched up the fabric. He pressed it to Charlie’s mouth.

“Bite down,” Max ordered.

Charlie obeyed.

“He’s going to take off your shoes and socks now,” Max said. “Whenever it hurts, you bite down into my coat. Scream, cry, hell- _curse_ for all I care. Just do whatever you have to do to get through it, alright?”

Charlie nodded, though the anxiety in his shaking frame was painfully evident. Nikki rubbed circles into his back.

David locked eyes with Max briefly, and Max could’ve sworn that he’d seen an enormous amount of _pride_ reflected in them.

With determined hands, David quickly went back to work on Charlie’s shoe. Though, as David eased off the boot this time, Charlie bit down. Max watched the young boy growl into the rag as David slowly pulled away the shoes and socks from Charlie’s swollen ankle.

Soon, both articles of clothing were off, and the ordeal was over.

David sighed. “It’s a definite strain- probably not a fracture, though.” He turned to Charlie and smiled his best. “We’re going to ice this, okay bud?”

Charlie spat out Max’s coat and nodded between sniffles.

“Are you going to be okay with him?” Neil asked.

David wore a confident face. “I’ll be just fine. You three go ahead and have fun, alright? Just be back by sun-up. And _please_ be some degree of sober _,_ okay?”

The three co-counselors nodded their agreement, and began to take their leave. Max offered Charlie a curt farewell before stepping out alongside Nikki and Neil.

“Your campers are something else,” Nikki said, punching Max playfully.

“Yeah,” Max said. “Karma’s a real whore, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah,” Neil grinned. “She’s quite the community bus-”

“-Yup; everyone’s had a ride,” Max finished grimly.

The old camp-mobile had been long-retired since Max was a kid, leaving the three counselors with no other choice than to file into Max’s old sedan. Max braced himself for the slew of light-hearted insults from his two friends (“Wow, how’d you manage to buy this piece of junk from the museum?” and “Do we have to run to get this thing to start up like in the _Flintstones_?”).

By the time Max had driven out of the camp and made it to the highway, however, they’d thankfully moved on to more important and poignant topics. Specifically, Nikki’s upcoming wedding.

“So what’s your wife’s name? I’ve never met this woman, have I?” Max asked.

Nikki laughed. “Her name’s Leanne!”

“Of course you’ve never met her,” Neil added, “You went _AWOL_ for an entire decade.”

“Shut up, Neil,” Nikki snapped. She smiled dreamily and leaned back into the passenger seat. “God, she’s great, though. She was on my rugby team for a while. That’s kind of where we first met.”

“Was?” Max asked.

“Well, yeah. She’s not anymore,” Nikki said. Her smile dropped at the edges and she turned to stare out the window. “She had to go on leave for a while. And after that, she got into law enforcement, so she couldn’t return to play professionally. I mean, which was good. I was friends with her on the team, but we didn’t start talking seriously until _after_ her divorce.”

“Oh?” Max asked.

“Hey, wait, you didn’t tell me this,” Neil added with a frown.

“She didn’t?”

“No.”

Nikki bit her lower lip and cracked her cuticles. “Yeah, she was married to this real ass of a guy. He kind of screwed her over and then left her.”

“Well, fuck him then,” Max said. “She’s got you now. That’s all she needs, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Nikki said, looking less than pleased. She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Max casted her a sideways glance, but stopped himself from pressing any further. This was supposed to be their night to get _away_ from all this stressful bullshit. He wasn’t going to ruin that.

It took a while to get to the nearest bar (one that didn’t double as a strip club, at least), but Max didn’t mind the longer drive.

He felt something ease in his gut within the familiar presence of the city. Despite the noise filling his ears, and despite the overwhelming electricity of the urban world, Max had to admit that he was thankful to feel like he belonged somewhere again.

Hell- he couldn’t even find it in himself to be exasperated at the countless stoplights.

They found a bar on the outskirts of the main avenues called _Rodeo’s_ and parked on the street.

The place reeked of draft beer, cigarette smoke, and cheap barbeque. A band was closing up their set onstage. Max watched as they performed- a handsome singer, a bassist wearing a crop-top and a leather jacket, a drummer with hair that covered his eyes, and a guitarist who was curiously bare-footed.

“Come on, Max,” Neil urged, dragging him to the bar.

Max ordered a coke, watching with incredulity as Neil and Nikki each pounded down a shot. He felt a turn in his gut at the sight of the liquor, but shook it off. David was right. He couldn’t live his entire life tormented by one bad experience.

Max rubbed his collarbones to inspect for bruises, and pushed the murky image of his father’s belt out of his head.

He took a sip of his soda. It tasted cold, and thick with sugar.

Besides him, Neil and Nikki drank and laughed until they stopped looking so old. Their ruddy faces lit up in the fluorescent glow of the bar’s neon lighting. Neil had unbuttoned the top four clasps of his collared shirt, and Nikki had taken her hair out of her ponytail.

“You’re too young to be getting married and… and all that shit,” Neil slurred, leaning in towards Nikki. “I’nnit she too young, Max?”

“Probably,” Max shrugged awkwardly.

“See!” Neil exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Nikki.

“Oh, you two are just pissy,” Nikki shot back. She was holding her alcohol much better than Neil, but she still slurred in her speech all the same. “You wouldn’t be half as riled up if you could get a girlfriend yourself, _pal._ ”

“Who says I _want_ a fucking girlfriend?” Neil said, a faux-horrified tone to his voice.

“What, are you gay?” Nikki asked, quirking her brow.

“Me? Gay? Why yes- I am, in fact, attracted to men,” Neil said, his serious expression undermined by the giggles that interpolated his speech. “Man. A man.”

“ _Amen_ to you too, you hopeless bastard,” Nikki laughed. “But seriously, if you just relaxed and got a boyfriend… or, or like a _gimp_ or whatever-,”

“Nikki!”

“-Then you’d understand that love is a great thing and should be cherished and acted upon.”

Neil scrunched up his face and took a drink of his third beer. “I do understand love!”

“Please-,” Max grinned, easing up. “You couldn’t seduce a man if you tried.”

“Oh test me, _Maxwell._ I could probably get a man faster than _your_ bitch-ass.”

“Is that a bet?”

“Winner gets twenty,” Neil snapped. “I pick for you, you pick for me.”

“Deal,” Max agreed.

He quickly scanned the bar, hoping to find at least one eligible suitor for his friend to flirt with. Finally, his eyes rested upon a man with a thick beard and a young face. He had a bright neon coat on, as if he’d just dropped by after a long day at his construction job. “You get the human traffic cone over there.”

Neil laughed. “Easy. He looks desperate. I raise you…”

Neil looked about. After a long moment of thought, his half-lidded eyes found the bored expression of one of the men who’d been on stage only an hour prior. “Bare-foot man.”

Max made a face, but reluctantly agreed. Nikki cheerfully called it upon herself to judge. With a firm handshake and a few low-brow taunts, Max and Neil split ways to approach their respective challenges. Max watched as Neil fumbled his way across the bar and laughed quietly to himself.

There was no way in hell he was losing to _that_.

Max put on his best charming grin, and eased up next to the man, who was tying the laces of his newly-donned sneakers.

“Mind if I sit?”

Max was answered with silence. He stood awkwardly as the man ignored him, and eventually resorted to taking a seat on his own. The guitarist sat up a little, glanced at Max with a polite nod, and then ordered a drink.

“Hey, I’ll cover that tab,” Max said smoothly.

Again, no response came. The man only spoke to thank the bartender, and took a sip of his drink- a mixer of ginger-ale and rum.

“I saw you up on stage. You play a damn fine guitar,” Max said, finishing off his coke.

Across the bar, Nikki was cackling. Max gritted his teeth.

“You’re handsome,” Max said flatly, beginning to feel an odd twist of irritation and awkwardness in his gut. He grumbled to himself before turning towards the man and leaning his elbow on the counter. The musician hardly acknowledged him, too caught up in uploading a video of his set to a social media site.

“I’ll suck your dick if you want me to,” Max said.

The man hardly blinked.

Max threw his fist down, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me-,”

“He’s deaf, dumbass,” a woman’s voice called behind him. Max whirled around until he met a pair of coy eyes and a shit-eating-grin. He instantly recognized the woman as the bassist who had been up on stage. She had her hands linked to her hips, and a somewhat pouty expression on her face. “Cute try, though. I find desperation really attractive in 20-something year old men.”

“Hey, nobody fucking asked for your input-,”

Ignoring him, the woman invited herself to sit next to Max and grinned. “Aren’t you a little too old to be drinking Coca-Cola on a Friday night? What, did you take an oath of sobriety at your last AA meeting?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Lady, I-,”

“I have a _name_ , you pig,” the girl snipped.

Max groaned. “Fine! What’s your name?”

“Zoe,” she said, grinning warmly once again. “And you?”

“Max.”

“I’m charmed.”

“Guess it’s a real fucking waste that I’m not trying to hit on _you_ , then,” Max grumbled. “Now what’s this about him being deaf?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Deaf? You know? Like the disability where you can’t hear?” She spoke as if she were explaining something to a child, and wore a sharp grin on her face. “I mean, I guess it comes in handy when creepy gay guys come along trying to hit on you-,”

“Hey- I am _not_ gay, alright? I’m doing this on a bet.”

“Looks like you’re going to be in the hole, then,” Zoe remarked.

“Isn’t that supposed to be my goal?” Max asked smartly.

“Nasty,” Zoe snickered. “But hey- if you’re really trying to hit on my poor bisexual brother over there… talk about music. He’ll adore you.”

“I’ll take you up on that advice. Thanks.” Max cracked a grin.

Zoe cracked him one back. “No prob. I mean, _someone_ had to save your severe case of limp-dick, right?” she laughed loudly and ordered herself a water before walking away to chat it up with her other band mates. Max watched her go, but remembered his bet fairly quickly, and refocused his attention on the man beside him.

Max tapped the man’s shoulder this time, and sighed in relief when the act immediately got his attention.

He jolted up and locked eyes with Max, a warm smile melting into his expression as if he’d just recognized that Max was some long-lost best friend. He had a sturdy face, with deep brown eyes and a grin that looked like it was made to be there.

Max went to talk, but froze.

Then quickly, an idea struck him. He dug a pencil from one of the Keno stands in front of him and scribbled a message onto a napkin:

UR CUTE. HOOK UP?

The man read the note and shot Max an amused look before laughing quietly to himself.

“What?” Max asked.

The guitarist held a sly grin as he replied, “I can read lips.” His pronunciation was slightly off-kilter and his voice sounded a bit rusted, but there was still a pleasantly low quality to it. “You don’t have to write.”

Max went a little red, but nodded despite and forced out an awkward laugh. “Oh yeah, right.” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My name is Max.”

The man grinned. “Spencer. Can I buy you a drink?”

Max glanced at his empty glass. “Sure,” he said. “How about a coke?”

“That’s different,” Spencer chuckled to himself. “I’ll gamble on it. Hey, barkeep! Your finest glass of Coca-Cola for my friend here, please.”

The barkeep nodded and refilled Max’s drink quickly before moving to tend to another group of patrons.

“Thank you,” Max said. “So, about your set- was that a Billy Joel cover I heard?”

Spencer’s face lit up. “Oh, you knew? That’s one of his less popular songs. People usually don’t notice.”

Spencer broke off into a tangent, and Max listened. They talked about Billy Joel, and classic rock, and eventually the logistics of being a deaf musician. Max had never been one for small talk, but Spencer had the kind of charm that could’ve been professional.  He smiled at all the right times, and made sure that the person he was speaking to never felt as if they’d said something stupid.

It was that aura of easygoingness that allowed Max to ask, “So were you like, born deaf?”

“Nah, I was born pretty normal. Well, not _normal_ \- but I was born with my hearing intact. I got into a car accident when I was four, suffered some head trauma, and I haven’t been able to hear since.  It’s not all bad, though. I was pretty lucky as far as timing goes, because at that point, I was still old enough to learn how to speak verbally, and still young enough to be native to sign language. It’s a best of both worlds situation, I guess.”

“Sign language?” Max’s ears perked.

“Sure. Like, for example-,” Spencer paused to show Max a small array of hand gestures. “See, I just called you a _‘pretty handsome guy for a son-of-a-bitch’_.”

Max paused. Something about Spencer’s hand motions seemed eerily familiar. “Hey, can you do that again real quick?” Max prompted. Spencer shrugged and complied.

The realization hit Max like a freight train made of dynamite.

“Oh, fuck! Charlie!” Max exclaimed, his eureka moment coming to him like the brief flash of clarity in the eye of a hurricane.

“Charlie?” Spencer blinked. He narrowed his eyes.

“No- shit, listen,” Max stammered, flushing with red. “There’s this kid at this camp I work at, and he’s not deaf or anything- at least I don’t think he is- but he’s got some fucking issues with speaking or whatever and you made me realize: he talks with his fucking hands! Jesus fuck, I’m an idiot!”

Spencer broke out into a laugh. “Oh, good. I thought you were seeing someone else for a second there.”

Max felt a pang of guilt hit him. His smile sunk like an anchor in water.

Spencer raised a brow. “You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

Max was quiet for a moment. And then he remembered the text. And for the first time, he began to feel more angry than sad about it. He stared Spencer in the eyes.

“Uh- Fuck no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

Spencer eyed him with suspicion, but eventually shrugged it off. “Cool,” he said.

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “Cool.”

There was no great weight that was lifted from Max’s shoulders. No startling revelation, and no moment of keen insight. In fact, Max felt exactly the same as he had before his declaration of a single relationship status. And that absolute lack of change somehow said more to him than any fantastical epiphany ever could have.

Max took in a steady breath.

“Hey, you wouldn’t be against showing me how to say some shit, would you?” He asked.

“In sign language? Hell, I’d be honored!” Spencer broke out into a smile that flooded into the corners of his eyes.

In the following span of twenty minutes, Spencer got Max acquainted with the most basic fundamentals of sign language. After a lot of hand adjustments and repetitions, Max felt confident with his hellos, goodbyes, his common courtesies, and his own name.

Spencer had been in the middle of teaching Max how to properly call someone an asshole when Nikki interrupted them.

“Hey, Max,” Nikki slurred. “It’s two AM and Neil’s crying. We should probably like, get back.”

Max blinked and checked his phone for the time. He cursed.

“Shit, you’re right. I’m really sorry, Spencer, but I’ve gotta go,” Max said, staring at his shoes.

“Say that again?”

Max mentally slapped himself. He made sure to turn his face towards Spencer so that the man could read his lips as he spoke. “We’ve got to go.”

“Oh, sure,” Spencer nodded in understanding. “Hey, before you leave, though- can I give you my number? In case you want to learn more sign language or something. We can hang out, or get something to eat or whatever.”

Max frowned. “I…” A cold sweat formed on his skin.

Spencer snorted to himself. Inquisitive eyes read Max’s conflicted expression as easily as modern English. “I knew it. You’ve got someone, don’t you?”

“No I fucking don’t, I swear-,”

“It’s okay, man. Here, let me give you my number anyways. I won’t hit on you anymore- promise. And uh- hey, whoever he is; he’s real lucky. You should let him know that.” Spencer smiled sadly, and managed to look agreeable even as he was disappointed.

Max sighed, relenting his phone. “You’re a great guy. You’ll find someone. You wouldn’t want me anyways; I’m a fucking wreck.”

“Maybe so,” Spencer hummed. He typed in his number and passed Max back his cell. “Text me sometime, alright?”

“Okay.” Max smiled as if it might answer all of his problems, and offered Spencer one last goodbye before turning on his heel and walking away.

Neil slung an arm around Max and frowned. “You seemed to get along,” Neil snapped, his voice sour. Dried tears stained his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Max asked Nikki.

Nikki snickered, the noise airy with exhaustion. “The guy he tried to hit on totally blew him off.”

“And not in the good way, I assume,” Max smirked.

“There is a huge goddamned prejudice against guys with big noses,” Neil howled. “It is discriminating, and dehumanizing, and I, for one, am disgusted with the treatment I have received on this night, _tonight!”_

Max laughed at his drunken friends, and led both of them to his car. He could get back home within the hour and still offer them all a good six more of rest if the traffic was light enough. Max cranked his passenger seat down for Nikki, and let Neil lay across his back seat.

The two were out within the instant- Nikki snoring semi-obnoxiously, and Neil curled up on his arms with an unbuckled seatbelt still wrapped around his waist.

Max turned on the radio, and drove.

After making sure to stop at a gas station for a pack of Gatorades, he was quick on his way back to camp. He drove down the highway, with only the soft sounds of the country rock station to keep him company as he set his car to the mercy of his cruise control and focused on the light of the orange streetlamps above him.

He hummed quietly to a song he didn’t know the lyrics to as the ghost of a smile haunted his face:

_Even though I don’t tell you all the time  
You had my heart a long, long time ago_

* * *

 

Max pulled into the camp just shy of three AM. He parked behind the counselor’s office, and made quick work of rousing Nikki and Neil.

Nikki groaned, but nodded and got up without too much trouble on Max’s part. The alcohol had gone through her fairly quickly, and though she definitely looked a little roughed up, she seemed to at least have a decent grasp of her surroundings.

“Thanks, Max,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “I had a good time.”

“Go to sleep,” Max snapped back. “Morning call’s at nine.”

Nikki saluted in place of a goodbye, and wobbled off towards the counselor’s cabins as Max opened the back door to wake Neil.

Neil struggled as he adjusted to his consciousness. Lazy blue eyes opened and caught Max’s. A sloppy grin spread across the drunken man’s face.

“Oh, hey, beautiful,” Neil hummed, breaking off into a laugh.

“Shut up,” Max snapped. “I’ve got to get us back into our cabin without David knowing you’re fucking shitfaced. Fuck, if I pull this off, I’m raising the twenty you owe me to _forty._ ”

“You didn’t even sleep with the guy!” Neil pouted.

“So? That wasn’t my goal in the first place. I got his number, dude,” Max grumbled. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to sleep with him anyways.”

“I thought you were into men?” Neil cocked his head. “Wait a fucking minute- are… are you seriously telling me that all this-this _pissing_ and _moaning_ you’ve been doing for Goodplay has been platonic? Oh my God, you’re _straight_ aren’t you? _”_

Max sighed and yanked Neil out of the backseat, pulling the seatbelt strap off of him. Finding the older man far too wobbly to walk on his own, Max threw Neil’s arm around his shoulder, and nudged the car door shut with his foot. “I’m not into girls,” Max snapped, irritated. “But that doesn’t mean I’m super thrilled about guys, either.”

“So what the hell are you into? Thespians?”

“Jesus, shut up. I’m into nothing, okay? I’m not straight, I’m not gay- I’m _nothing._ Leave it at that. Relationships just aren’t my thing.”

“Just because you’re not into relationships doesn’t make you… it doesn’t mean you’re _nothing_ ,” Neil countered. “Everyone is something in this world. We’re all… we’re all important.”

Max sighed. As much as he hated holding conversations with people, he hated holding conversations with _hammered_ people even more. He’d started hauling Neil’s dead weight towards their cabin, though his still-sore shoulders screamed in protest.

“It’s not that I don’t want a stupid fucking relationship or anything,” Max admitted. He wasn’t usually too eager to open up, but he figured that if Neil was plastered enough, he wouldn’t remember this particular exchange anyways. “I don’t- fuck, I just don’t think I deserve one. I don’t think I have the physical capability to fall in love. It wouldn’t be fair to Pres… to anybody.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Neil frowned.

“Yeah, _sure_.”

“Seriously, dude!” Neil pressed. “People who are asexual and aromantic get into relationships all the time! It happens! I mean, like, there are these little shits called tardigrades, right? Sons-of-bitches can suffer through just about anything: the vacuum of space, one hundred days of straight solar radiation, _six times_ the pressure of that at the deepest point in the Mariana trench.”

“Okay, I see our cabin-,”

“No, fuck you! I have a point to this. See, if those little bastards can exist, I don’t, you know, I don’t see why it’s so outrageous to be in a relationship and not in love.”

Max sighed. “I didn’t say it was impossible. I just said that it wasn’t fair.”

“Love isn’t fair, Max. That’s why there are so many fucking movies about it. The only movies about _easy_ things are pornos.”

Max let himself laugh a little bit at that. “Hey, Neil?”

Neil picked his head up slowly, as if it were somehow too heavy for his neck. His face was splotched with red, and his glassy eyes drifted in and out of focus. He had a serious frown on his face and a deep crease between his brows. “Yeah?” he asked.

“You are one _hell_ of a drunken piece of shit.”

Max walked him into the cabin, easing the door shut quietly as to not rouse David’s sleeping form.

The head counselor was passed out on his bunk with a pair of headphones plugged into his ears. No doubt they had an ambient nature soundtrack playing through them. Max had figured out pretty early on that David’s insomnia had only gotten worse over the years.

David had brushed it off as a side effect of aging, but Max had to wonder if something more kept him awake these days.

Max shook off the thought, and helped Neil into his bed. The older man smiled, staring up at Max with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“What’s the look for?” Max grumbled as he bent down to help Neil with his shoes.

“You’re a really fucking beautiful person,” Neil said simply. “I know you don’t see it in yourself all the time, but I do, you know?”

Max cracked a sad grin. “I know you do, buddy,” he said.

Neil’s expression suddenly morphed, his sloppy, relaxed grin fixing itself into something a bit more contemplative. He narrowed his eyes, staring at Max in deep thought as if Max were a scientific anomaly- a problem to be solved. He slowly rose to his elbows. His fingers caught Max’s neck.

And then Neil’s lips were against Max’s, and Max’s chest seized.

Max jerked away as soon as he’d come to his senses about what was happening. He shoved Neil back, sending the lanky man crashing back against his mattress. Max stumbled over himself as he backed away from the bed, falling into his own bunk. Each pulse of his speeding heart resounded in his ears like a mallet against an elephant-skin drum.

“Max, I’m… oh Hell, I’m… fuck, I’m so sorry,” Neil slurred, moving to get up.

“You stay right fucking there,” Max ordered.

Neil obeyed reluctantly, sitting back down at his bunk. Max wrapped his blanket around his body and turned so that his back faced Neil.

“Max, seriously-,”

“Goodnight, Neil.”

“Max, please, come on, I didn’t mean to-,”

 _“Goodnight,”_ Max shot back, firmer.

There was a long silence before Max finally heard Neil’s defeated sigh. There was a slight creak as Neil settled back down into his bunk. “I’m sorry again,” Neil murmured. “Goodnight, Max.”

Max didn’t reply, too caught up in the shakiness of his own hands as he clasped them over his mouth.

In the silence that followed, Max’s heart finally began to slow. His breathing faltered. The loud thoughts that rammed against his head like caged rioters settled in their outrage. And just as the blackness of sleep had started to capture him, he heard a single whisper in the nothingness that made his blood run cold:

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I had a real mental block when pulling this chapter together, but it's been one of my favorites to write thus far. It's been a real struggle to balance Max's character growth with the natural flow of the plot, and it's probably the thing I'm least confident about- but it's okay! Everything is a learning experience!
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who has commented! Motivation has been hard to come by lately, and so it really means so much when I get to see all the wonderful words people have left for me. 
> 
> A special thank you to my good friends, Spencer and Zoe- who have respectively made some amazing art and music playlists for this stupid little fic (and for unknowingly providing some inspiration for the two band members in this chapter).  
> Another special thank you to Emi, who has drawn some crazy skilled artwork for the Maxpres Roomates AU!
> 
> If you like this fanfic, go ahead and give them all a little love!:  
> Spencer: (https://droppinbops.tumblr.com/)  
> Zoe: (http://antiqueromo.tumblr.com/)  
> Emi: (http://incomprehensibleart.tumblr.com/)


	7. Emily Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Jokes  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Depictions of Anxiety  
> -Implied Violence  
> -Implied Abuse

Emily Hurts

Max blinked away the drowsiness from his eyes and inhaled sharply, rousing from his sleep. He groaned, rolling out of bed and letting the morning sun warm his skin.

“Good morning, Max.”

Max stretched his muscles and relaxed them with an exhale. He trudged over to his drawer, and dug around his wadded clothes for a fresh pair of shots.

“Are you still ignoring me?”

Max glanced up. From across the room, Neil was staring at him. The older man looked pathetically awkward, shifting from one leg to the other as if he were some kind of anxiety-ridden seesaw. Sleepless bags accompanied his unfocused eyes, and his flannel was sticking out halfway from beneath his belt.

Neil bit his lower lip and rubbed his hands together. “I’m sorry, you know. I think I’ve said it about a thousand times now, but I really am.”

Max tightened his jaw like it had been fashioned to a steel coil. “Don’t fucking look at me.”

Neil winced at Max’s harsh tone, but sighed all the same in relent. “Sorry,” he mumbled after a full rest of silence, “I mean, this _is_ the first time you’ve talked to me all week. As scientists often say, ‘progress is progress, no matter how sma- ‘,”

 _“Leave,”_ Max snapped, cutting Neil off.

Neil bit his lip. “Right. Of course. I’ll catch you at breakfast.”

There was a long pause, as if Neil were waiting for Max to spontaneously decide that he was done with his weeklong grudge, and accept Neil in a loving and tearful embrace. Max extinguished that fantasy with an expectant glare and a, “Well? Are you fucking going or not?”

Neil flinched and nodded, turning and marching out of the cabin without another word.

Max let go of the tenseness in his shoulders as soon as Neil walked out. It had been a week since they had kissed. A week since, in all drunken sincerity, Neil had uttered the three heaviest words in the English diction to Max.

“I love you.”

Max initially thought that he would’ve been horrified once the shock wore off. He thought that he might puke the morning after, despite being the only counselor who had actually stuck to his vow of sobriety that night. He thought he might feel all the insecurity and panic in his gut rise to his lips like the steam in a neglected teapot.

But none of that happened.

Instead, when he’d woken up the next morning and turned to inspect Neil’s sleeping form, he found that the emotion pooling in his chest was far from fear. It was a crueler emotion: disgust.

He was disgusted that Neil, having known him for hardly a month following a ten-month absence, had possessed the sheer nerve to utter something so intimate. The arrogance of concluding that Neil could ever understand Max enough to love him in such a short span of time felt insulting at best and dehumanizing at worst.

Neil didn’t love Max. He loved the _idea_ of Max.

And there was something incredibly demeaning about Max’s true self being less desirable than someone else’s opinion of him.

Max brushed away his crowded thoughts and stepped into his work uniform. He brushed his unruly hair back with his hands and felt the stubble along his jaw. It was starting to grow patchy and uneven. He’d have to get it shaved soon.

A glance towards the alarm clock told him that there were less than five minutes for him to occupy the mess hall before the campers were roused for their morning rituals.

So, without another idle thought, Max laced up his boots and found himself heading towards the smell of cheap coffee and scrambled eggs.

* * *

 

Melody jabbed Max in the side with the frog of her cello bow.

“Counselor? The page?”

“Shoot, sorry. Am I off by a measure?” Max winced, reaching over and flipping the score on Melody’s music stand.

Melody rolled her eyes. “Four, actually,” she grumbled before zoning back into her music.

The solo piece she had started composing only a week ago was already stretching onto three pages and counting. Though it sounded far from an experienced piece of work- in every technical sense, it was excellent.

Max had tried to compliment her upon her work once, but the conversation had been less than positive on either end. It had gone like this, to some effect:

Max: “Hey, this is pretty good.”

Melody: “Thanks, I guess.”

Max: “What, you don’t think so?”

Melody: “Since when do you know enough about composing music to judge me?”

Max: “Look, kid, I’m trying to be nice.”

Melody: “Thanks, I guess.”

Since then, he’d kept his accolades to his actions.

“Counselor, the _page_ ,” Melody snapped again.

“Shit, sorry.”

Max furrowed his brows as he tried to refocus upon the music, counting each beat and measure as Melody played through them. He usually wasn’t so unfocused, but his attention was being split between his active consciousness and heavy bouts of tension pains. His pill bottles had depleted faster than usual over the month (he could only wonder _why_ ), and he’d resorted to splitting his usual dosages in half.

He’d never cared particularly for movies about the end of the world, but now after feeling as if he’d been rationing for the apocalypse for the past week, he suddenly had a lot more appreciation for them.

Max winced as another wave of pain crashed into him. It felt as if someone were trying to crack open his skull from the inside out.

“Counselor, are you okay?”

Max glanced up. Kel stared at him from the benches, skinny arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin painted over his face. He was beginning to look more and more like Royce- a similarity nothing less than concerning.

“I’m fine, Kel. Thank you,” Max said through grit teeth.

Kel flashed a brutal grin. “Maybe they’ll let you call off sick. Doing nothing really seems to be tiring you out.”

Royce snickered under his breath.

“I’m not in the mood, kid,” Max warned.

“Why?” Kel jeered, his squeaky voice hitting an octave impressive even for pre-pubescent boys. “Upset that you actually gotta work?”

Derby made an annoyed noise at the back of her throat and turned around. “Shut your trap, _Kelly,_ ” she snapped. “Some of us are tryin’ to listen here!”

“Call me Kelly again, Derby!” Kel growled, baring his teeth. There was fury in his voice, and even from the stage, Max could see the whites surrounding his frantic irises. “I won’t hold back from hitting a girl if she’s asking for it.”

Derby laughed. “You pro’lly hit like a girl.”

“Y-yeah?” Kel spluttered. “W-well, you hit like… like a girly-er girl!”

“Wanna bet?”

 Max groaned, standing up. He apologized to Melody under his breath before making his way over to the bench. He held his throbbing temples as he walked, every step ringing the pain in his skull to life like a gong hit.

He settled a hand on Derby’s shoulder, and like that, the fight vanished from her.

“Alright, you little shits,” Max grumbled. “Fun time is over, so sit the fuck down. God forbid, if one of you gets beat up and runs crying to David, it’s _my_ ass. So, kiss and make up- because I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you.”

“Ew,” Kel drew his lip up in disgust. “I’d never kiss her.”

“What, afraid that girls have _cooties_ or something?” Derby sneered under her breath.

“N-no! And if they did, it wouldn’t even matter. You’re hardly a girl.”

“Yeah? Well I’m more of a boy than you are, so shut up.”

“That’s it-,”

“Enough!” Max snapped. He grabbed Kel by the back of his shirt as if the boy were a kitten and yanked him away from Derby. He pulled him up to the stage and pointed to the chair he had previously occupied.

“Sit down, and shut up. Understand?” Max hissed.

“Yes _sir_ ,” Kel grumbled.

Despite the obvious rebellion in his tone, he followed orders and kept his mouth shut for the remainder of Melody’s piece. Max listened as the girl let her last notes ring out. She waited until the last of her sound had dissolved into the air before standing up and taking a bow.

Out of polite obligation, the other three campers clapped.

“Good job, Melody,” Max nodded.

“Thank you,” Melody said dismissively.

Max rolled his eyes before addressing the other campers. “Great. Any comments? How about you, Kel? You seem like you’re in a talkative mood today.”

Kel glared at Max as he spoke. “The sound was very… nice.”

Melody turned to face Kel. “Y-you think so? Like, really?” Max raised a brow. He’d never seen her so eager to accept a compliment- much less had he seen her ask for the _validation_ of one.

Kel shrugged. “Oh, sure. I don’t remember the word, but the volume thing you do is cool, I guess.”

“Dynamics,” Melody corrected him, though she didn’t seem lecturing as she did so.

Derby’s hand shot up into the air. Despite, she didn’t wait to be called on before blurting: “I liked that too! So, Melody, did your parents know you were gonna be a musical genius when they named you?”

Melody’s bright expression flickered off like an unpaid electrical bill. It was apparent that she’d not only received this question a myriad of times before, but was also completely sick of it.

“I suppose they expected it,” she said. “They both work in music- like, professionally. I have an older brother whose name is Lyric.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! What d’ya think my musical name would be?”

Melody looked Derby up and down with unimpressed scrutiny before flatly replying, “Forte.”

If Max hadn’t been so preoccupied with his headache, he would’ve laughed.

“Anyways,” Melody said, making an effort to comically clear her throat. “Counselor, would you be able to record me?”

“Record you?”

“With your phone. A few bars at the end don’t sound good, and I think that maybe if I listened to them I’ll be able to figure out why.”

Max blinked and nodded like his neck had a metal rod stuck up it. “Sure, kid.”

He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his phone, fiddling around with it in search for the audio recording application. Once he found it, he passed his phone to Melody, and offered her free reign of the device. He didn’t care much to supervise her as she played with his phone- there wasn’t anything to hide there anyways.

He had deleted every last one of Preston’s texts and calls from his phone’s memory. And since it seemed that Preston’s texts and calls were the only thing on his phone, it was as if he’d set the device through a factory reset.

The only evidence proving that Max even associated with someone named Preston was a single contact, which Max had resisted the desire to delete. He had wanted to- there seemed like no greater temptation to him than to remove every trace of his roommate, who had apparently done the same for him.

But he couldn’t. Because if he was honest with himself, he’d admit that he didn’t really hate Preston. He just hated the way the Preston made him feel.

As the hour finished off, Max found himself more and more capable of ignoring his headache in favor for his anticipation over his next scheduled camp activity. As soon as he caught the hour change, he helped Melody pack away her cello and music, and hastily ushered his kids over to the mess hall.

“What are you so eager for?” Royce sneered, trailing a step behind Max.

“What? A counselor can’t be excited to see his camper?”

“I just figured that you hated all of us,” Royce shrugged.

Max rolled his eyes. “No, _most_ of you I can tolerate,” he snapped back. He hurried forward, eager to be away from Royce before the young teenager could curse his good mood any further.

He could hardly conceal the grin on his face when David and Charlie came into view.

Charlie had an air-cast around his twisted ankle, but was otherwise standing upright just fine. David stood right next to him, a cautious hand settled on the boy’s shoulder. David had ideally planned for Charlie to be exempted from camp activities for another entire week, but Max had pressed for the boy’s autonomy, and had managed to convince David to let Charlie continue his scheduled camp activities.

“Hi, Counselor! Campe Diem, kids!” David greeted. Max’s campers parroted the salute in compulsory reply.

Max held his tongue, instead opting for a silent wave.

_“Hello.”_

Charlie scrunched his brow, but didn’t say or sign anything in return.

“Shall we get started, then?” David asked.

Charlie nodded, clearly more than eager to get back into his daily routine. He hobbled over to a milk carton David must have carried out, and began dragging it to the patch of fresh topsoil lining the wall. Max sat down, knowing better than to help the boy with something he was clearly capable of handling.

Charlie bent down, pulling a spade from the front pocket of his overalls and jamming it into the soft dirt. Max and his campers watched with a muted interest as Charlie began the quick process of transplanting a small collection of saplings which had outgrown their plastic planter homes.

After the sprigs had been properly settled into the dirt, Charlie grabbed his water pail and began to douse them. Max felt his heart quicken as the pail emptied.

As per-usual, once the pail had been exhausted of its contents, Charlie turned to Max expectantly and gestured to the empty pail. This had been how he’d communicated the need for more water over the past few weeks, but since meeting Spencer, Max had decided that it was time they’d moved on to a more sophisticated system of speech. Max sat forward and looked Charlie in the eyes.

In a string of slow and unsure movements, Max managed to sign out his phrase letter-by-letter.

_“W-H-A-T Y-O-U N-E-E-D?”_

There was a moment of shock and silence, in which even his uninvolved campers watched with a kind of quiet fascination. Charlie’s eyes darted from Max’s face, to his hands, and then back up again. His mouth hung in disbelief, and his eyebrows were knit, as if he were still processing the event that had just occurred.

Then, with amazing speed, Charlie broke out of his stupor and signed something back. His hands jittered with excitement as he spoke, and Max bit his lower lip as he struggled to interpret the letters. He closed his eyes for a moment to think as he spelled out his next message.

_“S-L-O-W-E-R.”_

Charlie smacked his own head in self-exasperation and nodded vigorously. He took a deep breath and forced his hands to remain steady. In a far more temperate speed, he replied, “W-A-T-E-R.”

Max smiled. “Water?” he asked.

Charlie signed his confirmation, using his free hand to swipe away the fast-flowing tears from his eyes. His chest hiccupped in an overwhelmed laugh, and he looked up at David as if to say, _“Look! Look, he understands!”_

Max felt a rush of pride course through his body at the young boy’s tearful smile. “Don’t cry now, kid. I’m getting your water. No need to have a fit over it,” Max said softly, hoping to keep Charlie’s pride intact.

Max ruffled Charlie’s hair (an action which came so naturally and affectionately to him that he’d shocked even himself) and grabbed the depleted water pail from the grass. He stood up and made his way to the far side of the mess hall, where the tap had been affixed. He spun the faucet, positioning the pail beneath the flow of water falling from the spigot.

“Max?”

A voice dragged his attention from the slow-filling pail.

“David,” Max acknowledged.

David shifted his weight between his feet. “I don’t want to embarrass you, but what you did back there was just _amazing!_ ” he praised. “How did you know that Charlie was deaf? It wasn’t on any of his medical forms.”

“First off, he’s clearly not deaf,” Max grunted. “I think he’s just mute or something. Honestly, it’s not even really my business.”

“But where did you learn sign language from?”

Max felt heat rush to his face. “Uh, when Neil, Nik, and I went out last week, I met a deaf guy who taught me some stuff. From there, it was mostly Google and a little bit of practice.”

As water sloshed to the top of the pail, Max turned the nozzle off.

“You didn’t happen to stay in contact with this man, did you?” David asked, looking somewhat hopeful. “I’d be just pleased to invite him to camp so he could interact with Charlie! Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, I have his number and everything. I could give him a call. He’s a pretty nice guy- I’m sure if he’s not too busy, he’d love to help.”

“Wonderful!”

Max smiled, inspecting the older man before him. Behind his best attempt to smile, David looked as if he’d caught the flu. His skin was pale and splotchy, his eyes were dull, and his hair was unkempt. Charlie’s fall had clearly taken a number on him- though for what reasons, Max was unsure.

David’s smile wilted like an underwatered plant as he caught Max’s expression.

“Is something wrong, Max?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Max assured his head counselor. “But are _you_ okay?”

David rubbed his wrists, averting his eyes to the dirt beneath his feet.

“I’ll be dandy,” David said.

“Are you sure?”

“Goodness, Max. Keep up this line of questioning, and I might even mistake you for caring,” David grinned. The jab was lighthearted, but Max winced at it despite. David settled a hand between Max’s shoulders. “Come on, now. I’m sure Charlie is more than done with waiting for his water pail.”

Max sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

He grabbed the watering can and made his way back to the garden side of the building. Charlie huffed impatiently and snatched the pail from Max’s hand, limping back to his garden to work.

Though despite his apparent exasperation, Max still caught the boy sign a quick _“thank you”_.

“You’re welcome,” Max said back.

Though the boy’s back was turned, Max knew Charlie was smiling.

Max casted a sideways glance towards David, pleased to find that the head counselor’s eyes were warm with pride. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before waving for Max to talk to him. Max cocked his head, though following the gesture without question.

“I had doubts about you as a counselor, you know,” David hummed as soon as they were both out of earshot of the campers. “Not to be rude, of course.”

“That’s fair,” Max shrugged.

“I’m glad my concerns were proven wrong,” David said. He took a deep breath, and spoke his next words with the kind of delicate care most reserve for funerals, “You’ve grown up to be a great person, Maxwell. Are you aware of that?”

Max knitted his brow. He clenched his fists and felt that the biting pressure of his nails against his palms soothed him.

David smiled, and took Max’s silence as if it were a spoken response. “I’m proud of you.”

There was a long silence before David spoke up again, his voice projecting cautiously- as if words could walk on eggshells. “Are you in contact with your parents?”

Max swallowed hard. “I haven’t talked with them since I was sixteen, so no.” He tried to hang his words on a bitter laugh, but found himself getting choked up instead.

“I’m sorry, Max.”

“Don’t be. I’m just fine.”

“You misunderstand: I’m not sorry for you. I’m sorry for them.” 

“Yeah,” Max snorted sardonically. “I’m sure they really miss their burnout son. I’ll bet they’d be over-freaking- _joyed_ to know their only offspring was making fifteen bucks an hour as a shitty camp counselor.”

David frowned. “I think you’re far from a ‘shitty’ counselor.”

“Do you, now?” Max had meant for his words to be cutting, but instead found them almost hopeful- a pathetic reach for validation.

“Sure do,” David said simply.

Max watched his campers as they sat nearby the garden. Derby was working next to Charlie, too obsessed with getting the dirt beneath her fingernails to bother for a spade. Royce and Kel conspired so closely that their knees touched. Melody listened to her recording from Max’s phone, jotting down new notes and dynamics onto her sheet of music.

And in something far too akin to fondness, he smiled.

“So, did you only call me over to talk about me being a good person, or was there something else?” Max asked.

“Oh, right. I get off track so often, don’t I?” David laughed sheepishly. “In any case, I wanted to know if you’d like anything as a reward for your hard work. You’ve really turned yourself around these past few weeks, and I think you deserve something nice to show for it. Obviously, I can’t do anything too extravagant- however if you wanted another day of vacation or-,”

Max felt the blood rush to his chest. “Vacation?” he spluttered. “Y-you mean I can have an entire weekend?”

“Well, you already had a personal day accrued last time I checked, so I suppose if you’d like to add another, then yes.”

“Shit, please,” Max said eagerly. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be this weekend or anything, but if I could just go home for two days, then-,”

Max stopped himself.

While there was nothing his desires begged more for than to be within the cardboard walls of his apartment, he didn’t know if he even had anything in that godforsaken place to return to.

And the mere concept of even _seeing_ Preston was starting to make his head pound.

Still, there was closure to be had. And he was determined to have it.

“I’d like another vacation day, so I can take off for a weekend,” Max confirmed, his voice steadied with effort.

David nodded. “If that’s what you want, then you can have it. Does next weekend work for you?”

Max broke out into a grin. “Oh, hell yes.”

“Perfect, perfect. And one more thing.”

Max quirked his brow. “What?”

“Our dear Quartermaster mentioned to me that you had a concern with some of our supplies?” David asked.

Max blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the Quartermaster to actually be so considerate as to _listen_ to his gripes and complaints. “Uh- yeah, yeah. All the wood in the shed is pretty rotted, and we rebuilt a fence the other day with recycled wire. I was just thinking that we should replace some of our building materials. That’s all.”

David grinned. “Those are valid concerns. Would you like to grab Neil and take a drive?”

* * *

 

“So, why am I going with you to the hardware store? Not that I don’t love your company or anything- I’m just curious.”

“It wasn’t David’s idea for me to take _you_ specifically,” Max confessed. “But I figured that you deserved a break since you’ve been watching five extra campers for the past two weeks.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Max winced. He kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him as he drove, but from his peripherals he could still see the suspicion plastered all over Nikki’s expression. He’d never assumed her to be such a perceptive person, but underestimating her was his own fault.

“It’s not as big of a deal as you’re trying to make it,” Max huffed.

Nikki rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “This is why I wouldn’t ever be able to date a man. Honestly- I’m surprised they haven’t made laxatives for _emotional_ constipation yet.”

“Oh, real fucking clever, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be a jackass, Max.” Nikki sighed. “I mean- you know Neil's been torn up for like, this entire past week, right?”

“I don’t really care,” Max snapped back. “Not my fault he’s a pussy who can’t deal with the consequences of his own mistakes. It’s called _accountability_ , Nik. It means that when someone calls you out for fucking up, you don’t try to cry your way out of it like a little bitch.”

“You’re not giving him much credit,” Nikki said.

“What, do you think I’m wrong to be upset? How the fuck would you feel if your best friend kissed you in a drunken stupor and then had the nerve to confess his love for you right there?”

“No! I’m not saying that. Look, I don’t think you’re wrong, or he’s wrong, or whatever, alright? I’m just trying to say that Neil is a… _complicated_ person.” Nikki put her hands up in defense.

Max relented with a sigh. “Yeah. I’ll agree with you on that one.”

As Max returned his focus to the road, a silence stood between the two counselors- imposed upon only by the soft hum of Max’s radio. Max found it hard to care; he had never been the type to require the presence of words to fill every empty space. Sometimes, he liked the world around him to be quieter than his thoughts.

Then, suddenly, Nikki spoke up and sent a ripple through the still water.

“You know, maybe it was a good idea for you to bring me. Can you imagine Neil lifting a stack of two-by-fours?”

“He’d throw out his back,” Max replied with a comical solemnness.

They laughed together. Max let the sensation of easy company wash over him.

After that, they talked about fun, nonconsequential things. About their campers, about the declining quality of the mess hall food, and about how they never expected David to be capable of growing facial hair.

There were no further languid sighs shared between them. No longing stares, or furrowed brows. Their talk was like over-sweetened coffee: light, sweet, and easy on the tongue.

Max found it refreshing to be reminded that not all conversations had to be life-changing.

They arrived at the hardware store just as Nikki had finished a story regarding her team’s first collective experience with Jell-O shots. Max found a parking spot right by the store’s entrance and backed into it.

“So, what are we looking for exactly?” Nikki asked as she followed Max through the automatic sliding doors.

“Shit, let’s see,” Max hummed. He glanced around the store. It looked like a knockoff Home Depot, with tall metal shelves lining the narrow aisles. His eyes fell upon a few shelves, and he felt himself grin in victory. “Check it, Nik. There’s a bunch of clearance scraps right over there.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Let me guess- no list?”

“I’ve got a list,” Max huffed dramatically. He pointed to his own head. “It’s all in here, see?”

Nikki made a face and stuck out her tongue. "Men," she sighed in faux-exasperation.

He headed down the aisle, inspecting the heaps of leftover wood. Most of it was cut awkwardly, with irregular dimensions and splinters poking out from every side. They must have been leftovers from old projects.

Max knew he could still make something useful out of them. He’d just have to make sure to sand off the rough edges.

“Grab a cart,” he ordered, diving into the pile.

He felt around for the larger slabs of wood, pleased to find that there were a fair number of pieces that had a decent amount of volume and surface area. He pulled them out, letting them clatter to the floor.

After a minute or two, Nikki returned with a pallet cart. “Jesus, Max,” she sighed, bending down to pick up the already-hazardous pile of scraps Max had thrown onto the floor.

Ten minutes of this work passed, and the two counselors acted like a machine set to a continuous loop of Max fishing for wood, tossing it on the floor, and leaving Nikki to pick it up. Eventually, Max began to slow down his search-and-rescue mission on the heap of scraps.

“So, is this wood all we need?” Nikki asked, settling her hands upon her hips.

“Not yet; I want to grab one more thing before we pay,” Max said.

He led Nikki down another aisle on the other side of the store filled with landscaping. They walked past the decorative rocks and mulch, arriving promptly at the fencing. Max’s eyes travelled past the wood, wire, and synthetic plastic- landing upon a shelf of bundled chain-link fencing fabric.

“Fencing?” Nikki asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Max replied simply. “Are you going to help me, or am I hauling this shit by myself?”

Nikki rolled her eyes, but agreed to help despite and grabbed a roll to toss onto the pallet cart. Once they’d cleaned out an entire row of the material, Max grabbed two dozen poles and tucked them onto the cart as well.

Nikki grabbed the cart and pulled, heaving with effort as she struggled to get the cart moving. “Is all this fencing really necessary, Max?” Nikki huffed. “What are you even going to need it for?”

Max grinned at her. “It is a _mystery,”_ he said, trying his best to impersonate the Quartermaster.

Nikki laughed, and took the materials to the checkout. Max paid with the check David had given him, and they headed out to load his sedan with the materials.

“This shit’s gonna drag my bumper so badly,” Max huffed.

Accepting defeat, he got into his car and started it up, revving the engine to life.

The ride back was uneventful. Nikki explained the logistics of Rugby and scrums, and Max listened with a dull interest, nodding and “mmhm”-ing every so often to assure her of his interest.

They returned to the camp with an hour to spare before David would call for dinner.

“Come on, Nik. Help me get this shit to the supply barn,” Max ordered, popping his trunk and balancing a roll of fencing upon his shoulder.

Nikki nodded, grabbing a second and third before trudging off towards the barn. They hauled in silence for a while, transporting the huge stack of wood and fencing until their shoulders screamed at them to rest.

Max wiped the sweat from his forehead, breathing with effort as he grabbed the last bundle of fencing.

“One more trip,” Nikki huffed, grabbing a stack of scrap wood. “Come on, we can do it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max grumbled back, swinging the bundle of fencing around his shoulders. The weight itself wasn’t too terrible for Max to handle- he had managed much heavier objects making minimum wage at Wal-Mart.

What was killing him was the long stretch of land between his car and the shed- a trip taking four minutes both ways.

“Don’t look so beat, Max,” Nikki laughed. “How about we give ourselves an incentive? First one there wins?”

Max raised a brow, mentally gauging his own physical compacity. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Not at all. Winner gets twenty?”

“Oh, you’re on.”

They counted off from three, and at zero, sprinted off as if someone had set off a grenade behind them. Max felt his heart close to bursting in his chest as he forced his legs to carry him. There was some disadvantage to be had in racing a professional athlete, but Max had accounted for that setback. As Nikki veered left to take their typical path through the main activities area, Max continued to power straight through the wooded median.

He struggled through the rougher terrain. Though he kept his head up, his knees failed to follow suit, and he caught his boot on a stray rock that jutted from the soft earth. Max crashed to the ground, barely giving himself a moment to recollect before getting up and grabbing the aluminum bundle again. By the time he came out the other side of the median, he was in the lead by an inch.

In the last second, however, Nikki put on a burst of speed that she had reserved for the home-stretch of the run, zipping past him and dumping her things onto the barn floor with a victorious cheer. Max groaned, slowing down to a jog and taking his last few yards in stride.

They both plopped down on the cool stone floor, leaning their backs against the walls of the supply barn. They panted as they recovered from their sprint, letting a weak laugh interject their exhaustion. Nikki propped her arms above her head.

“Come on, Max- do this. It’ll help you catch your breath faster,” she said between controlled gulps of air. Max nodded wordlessly, following her suggestion.

There was nothing but quietness between them for a moment- nothing but the sound of two individuals swallowing their own spit in an attempt to calm their heartrates.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Nikki laughed.

“I never shook on it,” Max shot back.

“What? No way! That’s so lame, dude.”

“You know the rules, Nik,” Max laughed. “If you don’t shake, it don’t count.”

Nikki slugged Max in the shoulder just hard enough for it to still sting afterwards, grinning at him. “Asshole. How much longer until we have to go to the mess hall?”

Max shrugged, dropping his arms to check his phone. “Maybe twenty minutes,” he offered.

Nikki bit her lower lip in thought for a moment before speaking up, “Hey, random question- but do you think Neil would teach me how to braid hair if I asked?”

“What? Why the hell do you want to braid hair?”

“For Alecks.”

“Who?”

“You know, that girl who got her braids pulled out like two weeks ago when we were on lifeguard duty? She keeps making me escort her to Neil so that he can do her hair,” Nikki explained. There was something tense about her explanation that Max picked up on. Nikki waved away his scrutinizing expression with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I don't want to keep bothering him about it! That's all."

“I don't think he really gives a shit. But he’d probably teach you if you asked him to,” Max said, eyes narrowing.

Max moved to speak further- but the bell for dinner interrupted his efforts. He relented to his hungry stomach, helping Nikki to her feet and heading off to the mess hall.

He took his usual seat upon arriving- a spot on the bench he’d grown fond of for its more voyeuristic assets. As he greeted his usual crowd, he kept his eyes loosely attached to Nikki. She walked meekly to Neil, talking for a moment before sitting down next to him and introducing herself to his tablemates.

Neil gestured across his table, and a girl with long black hair nodded before switching her seat to sit between Neil and Nikki. Neil began to demonstrate, ignoring his food as he began to partition the girl’s hair into three sections.

A tug directed Max’s eyes away from the scene.

“What’s up, Charlie?” Max asked, already preparing to settle himself into a mental space indicative to sign-language.

Charlie spoke in an augmented mix of letters and easy-to-grasp gestures to keep his conversation from taking too long. _“C-A-N I WALK T-O-N-I-G-H-T?”_

“Can you walk tonight?” Max frowned. “Oh, wait-,” he said as the realization hit him, “-you’re talking about the hike. Right.”

Charlie nodded, looking up at Max expectantly.

Max sighed and signed a firm _“NO”_ , digging his fork into his plastic-y Salisbury steak. “Look, the counselor hikes aren’t for kids, okay? That’s just how it is. We take you kids on your own hikes all the goddamned time.”

Max knew that the hikes they took the campers on were nothing at all like the ones the counselors took. The camper hikes were all on leveled dirt trails. There had been nothing even remotely dangerous or exciting about them. They were likely a reflection of David's new obsession with safety, as Max remembered the hikes being a lot more energy-exerting when he was younger.

Charlie pressed on. _“P-L-E-A-S-E? I B-E GOOD.”_

“You know you scared David half to death, right?” Max said.

Charlie winced and glanced at his air-cast, taking a moment to brush some imaginary dust from his overalls. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced back up. Big insightful eyes stared into Max’s, and finally, the counselor relented.

“Fine. How about this? I’ve got some stuff to do tomorrow morning. If you want to be my guest and get up at four AM, I’ll take you on a trip through the woods.”

Charlie broke out into a grin, pumping his small fist in victory.

“Yeah, yeah, celebrate later, kid,” Max snapped. “Finish your dinner.”

Charlie nodded hastily before digging into his meal. Max found the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

As dinner came to a close, and the clunking of plastic trays into the washing bin rung throughout the hall, Max focused back upon Nikki. He had the great suspicion that something was about to go wrong- and he’d learned to trust the intuition that had been aged in all of his twenty-four years of hard luck.

The scene played out like a silent movie.

He watched Alecks from his peripherals as she approached the other two counselors, heading first to Neil. Alecks spoke for a little, gesturing to her long hair. Neil shook his head, looking as if he were mentioning something about his own campers before gesturing to Nikki.

Alecks glared at Nikki for a long time before apparently deciding that her hair wasn’t that important any longer and stepping away. Nikki’s hopeful face dropped. She huffed and stood up, walking out of the hall in front of her other campers.

Max cursed. He turned around, spotting quickly Royce’s tall figure amongst the others.

“Royce, can I trust you to walk our campers back to their tents?” Max asked.

“You just want to slack off so you can run and make kissy-faces with your _girlfriend_ ,” Royce snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, something like that,” Max relented.

“Fine, go ahead. It’s not like I don’t already do your job anyways,” Royce dismissed, though Max could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Max thanked Royce curtly before racing outside the mess hall. He scanned the clearing before catching the tail end of Nikki’s ponytail disappear into the forest.

“Nikki! Hey, wait up!” Max yelled.

Nikki turned around just long enough to establish eye-contact before whipping around and taking off into the overgrowth. Max cursed, racing after her. He usually preferred to leave people to their own miserable devices, but the sad face he had seen on Nikki had caused an ache in his chest.

She looked as if she’d been crying.

Max leaped into the woods, careening over a fallen log and following Nikki by the sound of her footsteps as they stumbled through the rocky terrain. Max effortlessly weaved in and out of the maze of trees, mumbling to himself as he ran, _“Eyes up, knees up. Eyes up, knees up.”_

The bubbling rush of water told Max that he and Nikki were right on the edge of the riverbank that cut through the forest. The water was too harsh and quick for even Nikki to fight her way through. She’d have to stop.

Max kicked his legs, forcing himself to push even faster as he closed the gap between him and Nikki. He was within arm’s reach just as Nikki’s toes found the ledge leading off to the rapids. Max instinctively reached out, grabbing Nikki by the shirt just in time to yank her back to safety. She fell into his arms, and they both tripped back on the hard dirt.

“What the hell was that for?” Max huffed, rubbing the now sore spot on his rear. “Was running away really fucking necessary?”

He almost glared at her, but stopped himself as soon as he heard her soft hiccupped sobbing. Nikki swiped at her eyes with her hands and coughed up her own spit.

Max steadied his breath, “What’s wrong?” he asked in his gentlest voice (which even then seemed far too harsh).

“It’s stupid. It’s so, _so_ stupid,” Nikki grumbled. She knocked her fist against her own head twice. She looked as if she wanted to hit herself a third time, but Max stopped her, grabbing her hand and holding it tight in his own. He squeezed her palm firmly, hoping that the pressure might soothe her.

Nikki sat there silently, choking on every stuttered breath that left her. “I’m super sorry, Max. I totally didn’t intend for you to run a cross-country meet.”

“It’s okay,” Max said. “I need to get in shape anyways. You see this shit?” he patted the fat on his stomach.

Nikki laughed. It was the kind of laugh that claws its way out of a crying person if only because of their desperation to do anything but weep. Nikki wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Max waited until she calmed down to press her again. “What’s going on?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid. It is kind of stupid,” Nikki laughed. “But I tried asking Neil to show me how to braid hair during dinner, right? And like, he did. And then when Alecks asked him to braid her hair, he asked her if she wanted for me to do it instead. And God, Max, she looked at me like I was _garbage_. She said, ‘why would I want _her_ to touch my hair?’, like, just completely disgusted.”

Max bit his lip. “Hey, it’s not your fault that she’s a brat.”

Nikki shook her head. “No, I know. And it’s not even really Alecks that I’m bothered by. I don’t care if she likes me or not.”

“You’re acting like you care,” Max snapped. If he were more patient like Neil, he may have been gentler with Nikki. But then he never would’ve gotten the answer he wanted.

Max cleared his throat with a firm resolution. “Look, I don’t know why you, Neil, and David are suddenly obsessed with being cryptic or whatever, but I’m fucking sick of it. Don’t say shit doesn’t bother you when it clearly does! Just tell me what’s wrong so I can fucking help you instead of sitting here clueless like a pathetic little bitch.”

“Leanne,” Nikki blurted.

Max paused, his anger dissolving. “What?”

Nikki played with her fingers for a moment before explaining further.

“Okay, so you know how I said Leanne’s ex screwed her over?” Nikki broke off to chuckle weakly. “Well, he really did _screw_ her. She’s got a little three-year old daughter named Emily.”

Max said nothing, waiting for Nikki to divulge on her own. It took the girl a moment to find the right words, but she eventually continued.

“And Emily hates me. I don’t know why, but she despises me. She won’t listen when I talk to her, and she has this game she likes to play where she’ll go around and acknowledge everything in the room except for me. And I didn’t know if I was doing something wrong, or if I just wasn’t good with kids. So, I saw this advertisement for Camp Campbell one night on my phone, and I instantly called up. I thought it would be a good opportunity to work with kids, you know? So that maybe I could learn how to be a better stepmother.”

Nikki’s grip clutched Max’s fingers hard enough to turn them blue, and though Max winced, he thought better of himself than to speak up about it.

She smiled with an angry bitterness that simply seemed wrong upon her usually kind face. “Anyways, I got a flight out of Nevada and I came here. And the boys love me! All of them are really such sweethearts, don't get me wrong. But the girls… they don’t really talk to me unless they have to. Hell, I think of ‘em got her _period_ , and she went and asked _Neil_ for help.”

“Well, to be fair, you’re not really much of a girl yourself,” Max smirked. “Honestly, you probably have more testosterone in you and Neil and I combined.”

Nikki looked up at him with a pitiful expression. Max winced.

“I mean- shit, sorry. That was fucked up for me to say. You’re very…” Max trailed off awkwardly. “…womanly?”

Nikki offered him a small pity-laugh. “You’re fine. On any other occasion, I swear I would’ve laughed. It’s just too much going on right now, you know?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “My bad.”

Nikki released a long breath. “I want to be a good mother,” she murmured.

“You’re hardly in your mid-twenties,” Max shook his head. “You shouldn’t _have_ to be a mother yet. I know you love Leanne, but-,”

“It’s not just her,” Nikki cut Max off. “I love Emily, too. I love them both. I know I’m young and whatever, but like, I know what it’s like to grow up without a real father around. One day, Emily’s going to get older, and she’s going to realize that her dad was a shitty one-night-stand bum who couldn’t man up enough to stick around. I want to be there for her when that happens.”

Max opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was struck, and at a loss for words. He hadn’t ever seen Nikki looking so hopeless before.

A better friend than him would’ve said something inspiring. A better friend would’ve put a comforting arm around Nikki’s shoulders in the perfect act of solace. A better friend would’ve made her smile.

But unfortunately for Nikki- she didn’t have a better friend at the moment.

And Max didn’t know how to do anything but hold her hand. “You’ll be there for her,” was all he could manage to say.

Nikki nodded, her breathing now steadied. The tears streaming down her cheeks had dried.

“Are you alright?” Max asked.

Nikki nodded her head yes.

“Do you want to go back now?”

Nikki shook her head no.

“Okay. Take your time,” Max said.

Nikki scooted closer to him, leaning down so that her head rested on his shoulder. Max stiffened at the unexpected contact, biting the inside of his cheek. "Don't do that. Please," he said softly, guilt stabbing him as he nudged her away from him. Nikki bit her lip, apologizing as she moved to balance her elbows upon her legs. They sat wordlessly for the longest time, letting the poison in their bodies sweat out into the damp summer air. 

“You still owe me twenty bucks,” Nikki said suddenly, killing the calmness between them. “I don’t care if we didn’t shake on it.”

“What? No fucking way. Dude, I just saved your damn life. Without me, you would’ve been face-down in that river.”

Nikki laughed, slapping Max’s chest playfully. “You’re such an asshole.”

Max grinned back. “So what if I fucking am? Look, you ready to go back or not?”

Nikki sighed. She wiped her eyes, took in a big shaky breath, and nodded. “I think so,” she said, fixing her hair back around her shoulders.

“Alright. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Max reached out his hand, letting Nikki grab it as she hauled herself off of the forest floor. She twined their fingers together, and kept her grip firm as they navigated their way back to the camp. Max couldn’t find it in him to mind- he had never been on to enjoy the contact of others, but he knew she needed this, and he refused to take it away from her.

She finally let go as they emerged back into the camp clearing, crossing her arms. Max shoved his hands into his pockets.

They walked back to their cabins in silence, though the lack of noise was hardly imposing. It was the kind of quietness that poets yearned for when they wrote about peace. Max decided that there was no better person that he could’ve shared it with.

When they arrived back at the cabins, Neil and David had already gone. A note was plastered to Max’s door:

NEIL SAID YOU AND NIKKI NEEDED TIME TO TALK, SO WE WENT OFF ON THE HIKE WITHOUT YOU. BE BACK APPROXIMATELY BY 9:30. SEE YOU THEN! HOPE YOU’RE BOTH OKAY!

“They left without us. Bastards,” Max frowned.

“Oh my God, are you _disappointed_ that you didn’t get to go on the counselor hike?” Nikki gawked.

“Fuck no,” Max grumbled. “Shut up. Go get sleep or whatever.”

“I can’t believe it! You _do_ enjoy things!” Nikki cackled, her cheerful disposition quickly returning to her. She seemed lighter as she made her way back to her cabin- not because the weight of her stress had somehow lessened, but because she had made the choice to allow Max to help her carry it.

Nikki opened the door to her cabin, pausing in the doorway for a moment to glance back at her co-counselor.

“Max?” She asked, seeming almost shy. “Is it cool if I hug you? I know you have that thing with other people touching you and-,”

“It’s fine,” Max said. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Nikki grinned. She carefully wrapped her arms around him, sending a feeling of lovely claustrophobia up his spine. He forced himself not to tense up at the contact, and gingerly hugged her back. “You know, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I missed you," Nikki mumbled, her voice sincere.

“I missed you too,” Max hummed. “Are you going to get some rest now?”

“I’ll probably lie awake for a while with my thoughts, but yeah- sleep usually comes after that.”

“Okay,” Max said.

She let go of him, thanking him one last time before retreating into her cabin. Max felt a surge of warmth flood his chest as she closed the door, and smiled to himself as he turned on his heel and ambled away.

He passed by his own cabin, making his way to the amphitheater as-per his nightly rituals seemed to entail. The cool night air cleared the scrambled thoughts in his brain as he climbed up on the old wooden stage. The sound of waves lapping at the shores behind him steadied his hands as he pulled his phone from his shorts and sifted through his contacts.

The soft ring of a dial tone sang in his ear as he pressed the call button- a melody that inspired restlessness from his legs, which suddenly found it appropriate to kick out from the stage’s ledge. His heart picked up with every unanswered ring.

Finally, the other line picked up.

“This is Zoe. Who’s calling?”

“Oh, uh- shit, hi. Can I talk to Spencer?” Max stammered, taken aback by the fact that Zoe had answered- and not Spencer as he’d intended.

“Hey! It’s that creepy gay guy from the bar!”

“Fuck you,” Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me, Max.”

“Cool. Max. So were you joking or are you actually this fucking stupid? You know you can’t talk to Spencer, don’t you?”

“What? Why? Is he busy or something?”

“Oh my God- he’s _deaf_ , fucktard.”

Max felt himself go red, and resisted the urge to throw himself into the lake and never resurface. The minor detail of Spencer’s disability must’ve gotten lost in the chaotic events that had taken place prior to his call. “Right. Shit, yeah- of course. Fuck- uh, can you take a message or something, then? Tell him it’s from Max.”

“Sure thing,” Zoe said. Max heard a click, and the background static in his ear amplified.

“Spence, Max is on the line,” Zoe said. Her voice seemed as if it had receded a few inches, and Max figured that she’d put the device on speakerphone.

“Oh, is he?” Spencer’s gravelly voice came through even dimmer, and cut in and out of the receiver.

Max continued. “Tell him that I want him to come up to the camp where I work at for a day if he’s not busy. There’s this kid who uses sign language, and I thought it’d be cool if-,”

Zoe cut him off. “Your boyfriend is asking you out on a date. He’s going to send you the directions. Through _text._ ”

Max winced, kicking himself for the ninth time in the past thirty seconds alone.

“Oh, okay- sure!” Spencer laughed. Max could hear the grin in his voice. It was endearing. “Hey, glad to hear you didn’t leave me hanging, man! I was getting kind of nervous, actually.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Max replied before again remembering that Spencer was deaf and wouldn’t be able to hear him. Max slapped himself. “I mean- I’ll be sending those directions now. Thanks, Zoe.”

“Anytime, dickhead,” Zoe snickered back. There was a click at the other end to signal the call’s end.

Max immediately opened up his texts, sent Camp Campbell’s address to Spencer (along with a long, convoluted note assuring Spencer that the trip was absolutely _not_ a date as Zoe had said).

Satisfied with his work, Max pocketed his phone and hopped from the amphitheater stage, heading back towards his cabin. His eyes had started to sting with exhaustion, and his body was more than sore from the day’s physical work. Sleep sounded like a cure he couldn’t resist.

He’d made it halfway to the counselor cabins when he saw a shadow dart across the activities clearing.

“Hey, who’s there?” Max called out. He checked the clock on his phone. “It’s past curfew!”

The shadow stopped dead in its tracks. “W-what are you gonna do? Stop me from peeing?” The voice that sounded was familiar, but seemed somehow strained- as if the owner was trying to save face by faking a deeper tone.

Max drew his lips into a line. “Kel, is that you?”

“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t.”

“Christ,” Max grumbled to himself, jogging towards the shadow until he could clearly make out the face of his camper.

Kel stayed frozen still, his expression fearful but firm. He kept his jaw stiff and his chin tilted up as he locked wide eyes with Max. In his arms, he hugged a small bundle of clothes tightly to his chest.

“What are you doing with those?” Max asked, pointing to the clothes.

“I found them on the ground. I was returning them,” Kel said, his voice confident with rehearsal.

“No, you didn’t,” Max shot back. “I know those are yours. I washed them just last week.”

Kel winced, squeezing his possessions even tighter, as if they were the only shield between he and his counselor.

Max looked Kel up and down. A thought which had been in his mind for the past while came to surface. “What, do you have shower-anxiety or something? Is that it?”

Kel said nothing, only continuing to stare into Max’s eyes with an ice-cold fire that might’ve jarred anyone with a lesser resolve. Max’s eyes averted to Kel’s hands, and he noticed very briefly that they were trembling. Max forced himself to soften his expression.

“Look, kid,” he said, his voice growing gentler, “if you want, you can use the counselor bathrooms. They’re all closed stalls, so you won’t have to worry about people seeing you. But you can’t go off trying to shower at ten at night looking like you just committed arson.”

Kel bared his teeth and looked Max up and down with scrutiny. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asked suspiciously. “If you think you can win me over, then you’re wrong- okay? Royce is my best friend, and I’d never betray him.”

“Kid, I’m not trying to be nice, alright?” Max responded, clicking his teeth together to conceal his aggravation. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable at camp. It’s my job. If you really want to, you can think of this as an apology for… not getting off on the right foot when I first met you.”

Max pressed his lips together. How he’d grabbed Kel on their first day- it still haunted him. He hadn’t let his emotions go unchecked like that in years. It scared him to know that despite everything, he might still lose control.

It was those little details that made getting better seem impossible.

Kel said nothing for a long while. His gray eyes looked like storm clouds that were unsure of whether or not they wanted to rain.

And then finally, he averted them to the ground in submission. “Okay, counselor. Thank you.” He bit his lower lip and shifted his weight awkwardly between his feet before adding a hasty, “and it’s okay, because I’m not mad at you for grabbing me on our first day.”

“Why? Because I’m giving you free reign of off-limits counselor territory?” Max asked with a nervous grin.

Kel shook his head. “Nah. I’ve been meaning to say sorry anyways, because it _was_ kind of my fault. I didn’t even mean to climb that high, really. But we could’ve sworn we saw a flag up there.”

Max cocked a brow. “Thank you,” he said, his voice falling flat. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but decided to dismiss the heavy feeling that was quickly pooling in the bottom of his gut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, Kel?”

“Yeah. Night,” Kel hummed, heading back to his tent.

“Night.”

Max found himself lost in thought as he meandered his way back to his cabin. He didn’t even realize that he had been walking for long until he found himself inches from his own door. Max shook off his stupor and eased the slab of wood open, slipping inside and ridding himself of his work clothes.

“Is Nikki alright?” The sleep-heavy voice of his best friend behind him made him jump.

“She’s fine, Neil,” Max said back. “Everything’s taken care of.”

“I tried to walk into her cabin after we finished our hike. She was pretending to sleep, so I figured that she didn’t want to be bothered.” Neil paused for a moment before decidedly burrowing deeper underneath his covers. “I’m worried about her.”

Max sighed and sat down on his own bunk. He stretched his sore limbs out and stared at the dark cabin wall across from him. It was lit just barely by the silvery light of the crescent moon.

“She’ll be fine, Neil,” Max said honestly. “She’s going through some stuff. That’s all.”

It registered in him suddenly that Neil didn’t know about Emily. Max wondered how secretive Nikki really was. He wondered why she had chosen to hide her step-daughter from Neil for so long if the two had always remained in contact. Max wondered why she had chosen _him_ to reveal her burden to.

But thinking made his head ache, and he was forced to stop.

Neil turned around in his bunk so that he was facing Max. He kept his eyes shut. “Are you still mad at me?”

Max sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Okay,” Neil said. He yawned. “I’m sorry.”

Max stared down at his own hands. He pressed them together and let his eyelids flutter shut. “I know you are, buddy. I know you are.”

A moment of silence passed, and Neil fell quickly back to sleep. Max swung his legs onto his bunk. Without even fixing his covers over himself, he laid his head down upon his pillow.

And like that- the world went silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, it's been two months since the last update. I'll be honest, I'm not especially confident with this chapter. With the time I had, I don't know if I could've done better. But frankly, I'm just ready to continue plowing through this story. I feel like getting stuck is the worst thing I can do- and even if it's not my best, something is better than nothing in this case. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a kudos, bookmark, comment, or read. Thank you to everyone who waited for me. 
> 
> Special thank you to my friend Emily, who went through the trouble of making a me a T3S wiki as a Christmas gift (honestly, it was amazing), and to who's name I re-purposed for this chapter. Another special thank you to my friends Spencer and Zoe, who are still my biggest motivators. And remember! I track the "#The Sparrow Still Sings" tag on tumblr, so if you ever make me something cool, remember to tag it, and then tag me "@max-as-hell"!
> 
> Check out Emily's Wiki: http://the-sparrow-still-sings.wikia.com/wiki/The_Sparrow_Still_Sings_Wiki  
> Check out Spencer's updated AMV for this story!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xR_HO0s15Y


	8. Max Feels Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Implied Alcohol Use

Max Feels Hole

“Alright,” Max said, locking eyes with his young camper. “You stay in my sight at all times, and you absolutely do not go _anywhere_ near the edge when we get there. If you need me, use this.”

Max tossed Charlie a bright red lifeguard whistle that he’d swiped from the counselor’s office earlier that morning. It was slightly chewed thanks to Nikki, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind the light usage.

“You understand me?” Max asked. “I’m serious right now, if you get hurt-,”

 _YES,_ Charlie signed impatiently, _HIKE N-O-W._

“Fine. Let’s go. Grab some of those poles, kid. I hope you’ve got some upper arm-strength, because we’ve got a long fucking trek ahead of us.” Max ordered.

Charlie complied, slipping the whistle around his neck and picking up two small armfuls of aluminum poles from the utility barn floor. Max bundled a buckle-strap around the remaining posts before propping them up on his shoulders.

They walked through the dead-silent camp together, the only noise between them coming from the rattle of Max’s toolbelt, which clanged awkwardly as he moved.

“Go on, kid. Straight ahead. I’ll tell you where to turn,” Max coaxed as they approached the mouth of the forest, nudging Charlie in front of him.

The forest floor was damp with morning dew, and Max’s boots sunk into the soft dirt as he walked. The distinct smell of the dew-wetted earth ran through his veins like caffeine. Trees rustled in the light winds, and small, invisible animals could be heard as they scuffled about the underbrush. The constant buzz of noise dully reminded Max of the city- always moving, and always awake.

But Max didn’t want to think about the city. The city reminded him of his apartment, and his apartment reminded him of _______. And Max wasn’t thinking about _______.

“Hey, keep your eyes up,” Max snapped, watching as Charlie nearly rammed his face on a low-hanging branch. “This isn’t like one of the hikes David takes you on. There’s no trail here to keep you from giving yourself a bloody nose.”

Charlie nodded, straightening up his chin as he ducked beneath the branch.

To Max’s satisfaction, they covered ground fairly quickly. He’d need to return to camp before nine if he wanted to get his camper back by breakfast.

Thankfully, Charlie was more than capable of handling the aluminum poles. He set them down only on occasion- when asking Max for directions or pointing out the local flora.

 _E-A-S-T-E-R-N W-H-I-T-E P-I-N-E_ , Charlie motioned.

“You don’t say,” Max said, trying his best to add a positive inflection to his words.

Charlie seemed to have a knowledge of the local wildlife astute enough to give even David a run for his money. He pointed out snake’s nests, and poison ivy patches, and the seemingly countless varieties of conifers as they walked.

Eventually, they approached a familiar line of bushes.

“Be careful,” Max said. “I’m going to ask you to walk past those bushes, alright? As soon as you get out the other side, you stop and wait for me. Understand?”

Charlie nodded eagerly before disappearing into the shrubbery. Max followed after, and he felt his muscles twitch with anxiety as he emerged on the other side.

The Sleepy Ledges gorge looked like a monster in the eerie darkness of the early morning. The jagged cliffsides jutted out like the razor-sharp teeth of an open maw, and the surrounding trees seemed to curve inwards towards the pitch-black hole like claws closing around prey.

Charlie dropped the aluminum poles and stepped forward towards the cliffside, mouth agape. Max cursed, dropping his bundle and pulling Charlie back by the fabric of his shirt.

 _W-A-S-N-T C-L-O-S-E_ , Charlie signed, hands jerking in a fashion akin to muted annoyance.

Max glanced at the spot Charlie had been standing at. It was a solid two yards from the cliff’s edge. “I don’t care,” Max snapped, embarrassed over his own overreaction. “What did I fucking tell you just twenty minutes ago?”

 _S-O-R-R-Y,_ Charlie bit his lower lip.

“I’ll give you something to be fucking sorry about,” Max grumbled. “I’m going to tell you again- you keep the fuck away from that ledge. Do you understand me?”

_YES._

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Glad we’re on the same page. I’m going to do some work, so just whistle if you need me- alright, kid?” Max said.

Charlie nodded, wandering off to dig by the bushes.

And with that, Max went to work.

It was a tougher job than he’d expected, and by the end of his second hour of work, he found himself drenched in sweat. His thumb throbbed from a particularly sloppy swing of his hammer.

Still, he’d accomplished a lot, and he felt proud for that. He’d managed to use up nearly three-quarters of the materials he’d brought, and had almost covered the entire perimeter of his newly charted construction zone.

He knew there was far more work to be done; but right then, he felt satisfied.

By the time Charlie and Max started heading back, the sun was just beginning to leak through the tree-tops. The sky was a pinkish-blue, and Max was putting up with all of Charlie’s rambling with a smile on his face. Though he could only understand one word out of twenty at best, Max found that the motions of Charlie’s hands as they spoke were still entertaining enough to watch with interest.

The dim hum of Bill Withers’ _Lovely Day_ faded into Max’s ears as he and Charlie walked back into the camp.

Charlie’s stomach growled. Max’s followed suit.

“So, the bastard’s conditioned all of us, then?” Max remarked in half-amusement. He checked the time on his phone and felt a sort of pleasant anxiety run through his chest. “Alright, kid. Go to the mess hall. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

Charlie nodded, racing off to meet his fellow campers for breakfast.

With Charlie out of his care, Max hurried back to the shed to ditch his aluminum fence posts. He tucked them away beneath a stack of wood, should David decide to inspect the utility barn for any odd reason.

After, he headed to the washrooms.

“Glad to see you finally took a shower,” Max greeted Kel. The camper was walking from the counselor’s bathroom, his pajamas bundled up in his arms and his long hair wrapped up in a towel.

Kel gave Max a dirty look, but it was clear that his heart wasn’t in it- which Max figured was progress.

Max quickly rinsed the sweat and mud from his body, put on a fresh pair of work clothes, and headed back out.

He waited by the camp’s entrance, crossing his arms over his chest and checking his phone as-per a five second cycle. It wasn’t long before his phone lit up with the message he’d been waiting for.

 **Spencer, 9:13 AM:** Hey! Where do I park?

 **Max, 9:14 AM:** right at entrance. waiting for u there. don’t txt n drive.

 **Spencer, 9:16 AM:** I’m pulled over! What, would you rather I call?

Max groaned, cringing at the memory.

 **Max, 9:16 AM:** on second thought I regret asking u to visit. is it too late to go back on my invitation.

 **Spencer, 9:17 AM:** Way too late, dude! Hang on, I’ll be there in a moment!

Max grinned at his phone. He pocketed it, forcing his grin to iron back out into a flat line as he stared out towards the entrance driveway. It was nice to hear his phone’s notification jingle again after so long.

Spencer pulled in just shy of five minutes after the last text. He was behind the wheel of a silver truck that looked far too nice to have been purchased on a musician’s paycheck. Spencer killed the engine and stepped out, a warm grin melting onto his face.

“Max! Hey, it’s so great to see you, man. Has anyone ever mentioned you look totally fantastic when you’re not in a shitty bar?” Spencer greeted.

Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fuck you, too, buddy.”

Spencer laughed, “A tempting offer, but I assure you that I _was_ being sincere in my compliment.”

“You’re fucking obnoxious.”

“I get that a lot. I think it’s a musician thing.”

“Christ.”

Max made a show of running his hand down his face in exasperation. Despite, he found it comforting to have a back-and-forth with someone again. It was nice to sling harmless insults like ping-pong balls, and even more rewarding to continue the volley.

“Anyways, where’s this camper I’m supposed to meet?” Spencer prompted.

“Oh, right. He’s in the mess hall with everyone else. Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Max asked.

“Is this a date?” Spencer grinned. At Max’s expression, Spencer rolled his eyes and grinned into an _oh, you_ -kind of huff. “A joke, Max. It was a joke.”

“It was a shitty joke,” Max grumbled, leading Spencer towards the mess hall building. Max stopped himself before he could pull open the green doors of the building. “Prepare yourself to meet David, dude. He’s our head counselor, and he’s like, _very_ fucking enthusiastic.”

“Noted,” Spencer grinned. “Think I’ll make a good impression?”

Max’s lip twitched in amusement. Despite Spencer’s expertly chill exterior, he could still see the slight nuances of the younger man’s apparent nervousness. He looked cleaner-cut than he had at the bar- freshly shaved, and with his hair gelled back neatly. An ill-fitting button-up from straight out of the early 70’s covered his shoulders- it had clearly been the product of a last-minute run to Goodwill.

“Don’t worry. David’s gonna eat you up, dude,” Max said. He pushed open the door, and David, like a dog whose owner was away, bounded up to them eagerly.

“You must be Spencer!” David greeted, flashing a brilliant, toothy smile. “Welcome to Camp Campbell! I can’t tell you how grateful we are to have you here with us today!”

“Oh, sure-,”

“And where are my manners?” David cut spencer off, “My name is David! I’m the head counselor and owner of our beautiful camp.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Spencer said without missing a beat. He extended his hand; which David took eagerly and shook as if he were trying to get a jump rope started.

“Max, would you like to introduce Spencer to your campers? I’ll make sure he gets a proper announcement at the end of breakfast, but I’m sure he’s like to sit down before we overwhelm him too much.”

“Yes, I’d _hate_ to overwhelm him,” Max rolled his eyes. Spencer snickered a bit.

“Alright! Wonderful. You two go ahead and get something to eat, now. I’ll be at the first table on the left if you need me, Spencer.”

Max rolled his eyes, leading Spencer away to his usual table near the back. He settled Spencer in the vacant spot where Neil used to reside. “What do you want to eat? We’ve got cereal, toast, and stuff that looks like eggs.”

 _“Looks_ like?” Spencer raised a brow.

“I don’t like to make assumptions,” Max shrugged.

“The fact that I can’t tell if you’re joking or not seriously concerns me. Is the cereal pre-packaged?”

“Yeah. It’s just Cheerios, though. And they might be expired.”

“I’ll settle for those, then,” Spencer decided, looking far too polite to express any confusion.

Max nodded, heading off to grab breakfast for the two of them. He came back, passing Spencer a plastic bowl full of cereal, and a mug filled to the brim with black coffee for himself.

“Aren’t you eating?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, sure. I make sure there are grounds on the bottom. Real rich in protein,” Max deadpanned. He cracked a grin. “Kidding. I just don’t have much of an appetite in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer nodded. “So, how about you introduce me to these little guys?”

“Sure. Campers, this is Spencer. He’s going to be Charlie’s translator today. Spencer, these are the little shits I get paid _slightly_ above minimum wage to supervise. Derby’s over there, at Nikki’s table, but everyone else is here. Melody, Kel, Royce, and this is Charlie.”

Max’s campers had stopped eating by then, far more interested by the new arrival to their table. Royce squinted, frowning in apparent disgust.

“So, was this man hired by the camp to translate?” Royce asked.

“No, I’m just a friend of your counselor’s,” Spencer said. “I’m visiting for the day.”

“Figured,” Royce said, a victorious sneer over his face. “I wouldn’t expect any less from my _wonderful_ counselor. So, Max, did you even do a proper background check before letting this… _stranger_ in to camp?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Do we have to do this every freaking time, Royce?”

“I’m just making sure you put our safety first. You know, like a responsible counselor should.”

“You little-,” Max stopped himself before he let the teenager under his skin. He paused and turned to Spencer with a comically polite expression on his face. “Spencer,” he said flatly, “are you here to perform any act of bodily harm upon me or my innocent campers?”

Spencer grinned back, “Don’t recall so, counselor.”

“Alright. You passed my background check. Congrats.”

“Seriously? For all we know this guy could be an axe-murderer! Does nobody care about _regulations_ anymore?”

Charlie motioned out something with his hands.

“Uh, Royce? That’s your name, right?” Spencer asked, trying and failing to conceal the smile on his face. “Don’t shoot the messenger or anything, but Charlie here says, and I quote, _‘shut up’_.”

Royce spluttered in fury, a look that Max found entirely amusing.

“Look, kid, I already cleared everything with David. Now quit trying to jeopardize my job, and eat your breakfast,” Max sighed, turning from Royce to dig back into his eggs.

“Fine,” Royce said. “Whatever.”

And they left it at that.

* * *

 The morning activities went by in a breeze.

With the extra pair of hands, running his campers’ various activities was easier than ever. What also became entertaining was Charlie’s near non-stop commentary on any and all of the events taking place. Using Spencer as his talk-piece, Charlie could quip and jeer with the others in his group without missing a beat.

Nobody had been previously adjusted to hearing Charlie speak, and so the first handful of times drew the shocked attention of even Max.

It became a particularly sore wound, Max noticed, when the campers mused to themselves while standing right besides Charlie as if he were invisible.

Most of these instances had gone something to the effect of-

Derby: Man, I hope my mom ain’t signing me up for finishing school like Melody’s is.

Charlie: I bet the finishing school feels the same way.

It was made even more comical to hear such biting comments from the rasping voice of a twenty-two-year-old man. Spencer hesitated constantly as he translated between Charlie and the campers, and when Max asked why, he’d replied sheepishly that, “Charlie’s got some nasty language for a third-grader.”

Despite his slight censorship, however, Spencer did an exceptional job of matching Charlie’s hands with his voice. He jokingly asked for a cough-drop after Charlie’s scheduled activity, as for the first time, Charlie had been able to take initiative and actually _explain_ the workings of his garden.

It was clear that the boy was growing fond of Spencer, to the point where he looked as if he were going to throw a fit when Max passed his campers to Nikki for the afternoon free-period.

“We’re just giving Spencer a second to catch his voice, kid,” Max had said. “Quit crying. Guys don’t do that shit.”

At Nikki’s glare, Max had amended his statement, “Sorry. _Big kids_ don’t do that shit.”

Charlie wiped his face, and nodded, breathing in through his nose to steady himself. _BYE, S,_ he signed.

“See you at dinner, C,” Spencer said back.

Max let the two take their time with splitting before pulling Spencer away to the utility shed for a well-earned break. There wasn’t much work to be done around camp- ever since Max began assisting the Quartermaster, any work that needed to be done was finished in nearly half the usual time.

The camp was running better than ever, and Max had learned more in the past few weeks about carpentry, plumbing, and electrical than he’d ever needed to know.

Max sat down on the dirt, leaning back against the old barn’s wall. He’d taken the initiative to start repairing the infrastructure, and as a result, the building was starting to look respectable again.

Spencer sat down next to Max and grinned.

“It’s fun to watch you around kids,” he said.

“Fucking hell,” Max rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m serious. It’s like you’re their older brother or something and you got put on babysitting duty. Like, yeah, you clearly look like you’d be happier doing something else- but I can tell you really care about them.”

Max shrugged. “I guess some of the little shits grow on me.”

“Really? I think you have a heart for all of them,” Spencer said. He smiled knowingly. “Even the ones who like picking on you.”

“Christ, don’t get me started on Royce. The kid has had it out for me since day one. He’s tried to get me fired at least once a week. I don’t even know why the bastard hates me so much,” Max huffed.

“Maybe it’s because you call him a bastard?”

“Suck my dick, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed. “Fine, fine, it’s not that. But either way- you make it sound like you care.”

Max winced, averting his eyes. He almost began to speak, but remembered that he needed to face Spencer when he talked.

“So? What if I do happen to give a shit about the kid?” Max huffed, feeling awkwardly exposed in his position. “That doesn’t mean I like him. Maybe the asshole just reminds me of myself when I was his age.”

“Poorly tempered, self-centered, and cynical?” Spencer prompted.

“Fuck you, dude.”

“Sorry! But hey- maybe I’m into complete assholes!” Spencer defended. “I could’ve been hardcore flirting with you and you wouldn’t even know it.”

Max caught the glint in Spencer’s eye- one he would’ve missed if he hadn’t been adamant on having to face the man when he spoke. He sighed.

“Spencer, I don’t know if I’m reaching or not- it’s become pretty fucking apparent to me lately that I’m shit at picking up signs- but, like, you’re joking, right?” Max asked.

Spencer winced in subtle confirmation of what Max had implied.

“Oh, shit,” Max huffed.

“Look, just hear me out,” Spencer said, his words crashing into themselves like a five-car pileup. “I know you’ve got your hang-up with whoever-he-is, but I can’t help myself. You’re just one of those people, Max. You know?”

“One of those people,” Max parroted flatly.

He frowned. He’d never found himself to be _one of those people._ He’d never been the type of person to make someone else feel like their life had become a romance novel. He’d never been the one good thing in someone else’s existence.

And he’d never been the cause of a ruined song, or a blacklisted coffee shop. He’d never been someone’s _what-could-have-been_. He’d never been the type of person that other people tried so desperately to erase before realizing he’d been written in pen.

If anything, _Preston_ was one of those people- not Max.

But Max wasn’t thinking about Preston.

Max was listening to the birds overhead.

“You’re a little broken,” Spencer said- gently, as to not frame the statement as an insult. “Like, you’re really guarded upfront, but today I saw these little cracks in that whole disinterested-asshole persona you put up. And it’s rewarding, you know? It makes me want to know everything about you- all of the good things you keep locked up. Because I know you’re good, Max, and it kills me when you don’t realize that about yourself.”

Max felt something in him snap. He stiffened his jaw and forced his eyes to stare straight ahead. _Eyes up._

Spencer’s eyes were brown.

“Look, Spencer,” Max said. He didn’t care to take the same precautions that Spencer had in watching his tone. Max’s voice was harder and colder than manufactured steel. “I’m not here to be conquered, or to fucking pick apart and examine. I don’t need some great guy or girl to come along and find all the good things about myself that I supposedly can’t already see. I’m not your fucking motivation. I’m a goddamned human being. And I’m sick of being treated like I’m someone else’s trauma.”

Spencer bit his lower lip. “I wasn’t trying to say that-,”

“You’re a real charming guy,” Max looked down at his hands. They were dried and bruised from his work- ugly, even. “You have a talent for talking, I’ll give you that.”

There was a long silence between them. Long enough for the words to not only sting, but also to throb afterwards.

Eventually, Spencer accepted his defeat with a wobbly smile. “So, what’s he doing right, then? I should probably take notes for the next jaded guy I fall for.”

“Who?” Max asked.

“Your boyfriend. The dude you apparently can’t get enough of,” Spencer said, and though he smiled good-naturedly, it was the first time he’d ever sounded bitter to Max.

“He’s…,” Max paused and leaned his head back against the barn, staring up at the blue sky above him. “He’s nice,” Max said flatly.

“That’s all?”

“Sorry. I’ve been trying not to think about him,” Max confessed. “But it’s like he’s fucking everywhere, so why bother resisting anymore, right?”

Spencer said nothing. He had a pitying expression on his face- one that Max had to resist the urge to punch.

“Let me give you some context, okay? It’s hard to understand without the context,” Max said. He was stalling his brain- enjoying the last moments of his Preston-less mind in the numbing embrace of the new world around him. But then Max pulled the last block from his mind, and the words toppled from his brain like an unsteady Jenga tower.

“I got kicked out of my house in sophomore year. I guess I disrespected my folks or something- I can’t fucking remember. But whatever. Anyways, around that time, Preston’s grandma died, so he was practically homeless, too. He got some cash off of her will, but most of it got taken up by the rest of his shitty family. So, he used what he got and bought up some credit hours at the local college and an apartment in the city. But, you know, paying the rent ain’t easy. So, he put up an ad on Facebook to find a roommate, and I was lucky enough to be the first to answer it. I moved downtown, he signed the lease, and I picked up a job working for Wal-Mart so we could scrape by. Because poverty’s so fucking romantic, right?

“Anyways, we’ve been living there since. It’s been eight years. Same everything- same apartment, same college. I’d say same job on top of that, but I got fired from Wal-Mart just before I came to work here.”

“That sounds rough,” Spencer said.

Max cracked the ghost of a smile. “It has been rough. Really fucking rough. But you know what? I can’t remember myself ever being unhappy about it. This is the first time I’ve been fucking miserable in eight years, and it’s because I don’t have Preston here get me through the day.”

“What’s so special about him?” Spencer asked- but this time it seemed as if he was asking in curiosity rather than out of cruelty.

“He’s patient,” Max said, and he laughed just because he’d felt something welling up in his chest- and if it hadn’t come out in a laugh, it might’ve come out as a sob. “He’s considerate, and he’s kind of bitchy, but he’s never treated me like I should be thankful for knowing him, even if he’s had every reason to. He’s seen all the great parts of me, and all the fucking terrible parts of me, and he’s never tried to take them for himself. And-,” the words caught in Max’s throat. “-and he said he loved me once, and it didn’t feel wrong.”

“And do you love him back?” Spencer asked.

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Max couldn’t hear the birds chirping, and he couldn’t smell the dirt and grass beneath his own hands. He closed his eyes, and he could see his apartment bedroom, lit ablaze with the golden morning sun.

Preston was sitting there in the middle of it, blankets up to his hips, nursing a Gatorade to kill the hangover he’d gotten from the night before. His glasses dipped down upon the ridge of his nose, and his long, tied up hair looked ten shades lighter in the sun.

And then Max opened his eyes, and he let the memory fade back into the far side of his brain. He looked at Spencer. And finally, he spoke.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

* * *

 

Max laid in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

He’d sent Spencer off after they’d finished the last campfire song, and he’d watched the younger man’s truck as it drove off until it became nothing more than a dot against the unlit dirt path. He had his headphones in, and listened carefully as the soft hum of Billy Joel’s _And So It Goes_ started to match the thrum of his own heartbeat.

Max’s eyes found his phone again. He’d sent three texts in the past hour. One thanking Spencer for his visit and hoping him well. The other two he’d sent to Preston.

Max read them over and over in his head until the words made him sick.

 **Max, 1:24 AM:** hey. i hope u had a good night. i know ur not gonna respond but i’m coming home next fri for the weekend and i thought that u might’ve wanted to know.

 **Max, 1:46 AM:** sorry if this is sudden. i’m really trying to get better like i said i was going to, and i need to talk to u. i hope u still miss me. 

Max sighed, casting a quick glance to the alarm clock on David’s nightstand. It was just past two-thirty in the morning.

Knowing it would be stupid to wait any longer for a text that wouldn’t come, Max unplugged his headphones, tucked his phone underneath his pillow, and closed his eyes.

And he fell asleep- thinking that if ‘hole’ and ‘whole’ really sounded that alike, he’d be able to convince himself that there wasn’t something missing from his rib-cage. And then maybe he’d finally feel complete again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super melodramatic, but it was actually a lot more pleasant for me to truck through than the last several. I'm not sure how I feel about it at all, actually, but I'm hoping that it satisfies someone out there. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, kudos'd, bookmark'd and reviewed. I really, really appreciate it. 
> 
> Special thanks to my pal, Spencer, who drew some great art of Charlie a while back. Check it out here.  
> https://droppinbops.tumblr.com/post/170060935675/max-learned-how-to-sign-allbeit-poorly-but-aaa


	9. Preston Gets a Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings for:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Alcohol Use  
> -Mentions of Alcohol  
> -Implied Abuse  
> -Closeted LGBT+ Themes  
> -Violence  
> -Light Descriptions of Blood  
> -Depictions of Depression

Preston Gets a Haircut

Max sipped his scalding coffee like a fine wine.

Most of his mind had drifted off into the stratosphere, but he’d taken the initiative to dedicate at least a third of his attention towards his campers.

“I think that’s good, kid,” Max said, eyeing the fill-line of the red solo cup he was holding steady with his free-hand.

Charlie nodded and took the cup away, setting it alongside a half-dozen others before passing Max a new empty one to hold. Apparently, the garden had been overrun by slugs- and to Charlie, this meant war.

 _Milk traps_ , Charlie had explained to the other campers the day before. _The slugs go in after the milk, but you pour it so that they can’t crawl back out and they drown. And then hedgehogs eat them._

On the other side of Max’s seat, Melody was listening to the most recent recording of the second movement of her _magnum opus_ through Max’s earbuds. She tapped against the wooden table with the prongs of her fork, forgoing her waffles to make notes on her score. From the corner of his eye, Max could see Nikki and Derby discussing basketball plays, and to his right, Royce and Kel were conducting one of their typical scheming sessions.

It was strange to Max- he could still recall a time when the buzz of these morning activities had grated on him, but now, it seemed like he was remembering the annoyance through someone else’s account. Nowadays, he found the predictability and routine of his own exasperation to be a strange comfort.

“Hey, counselor.”

Max blinked. “Kel,” he acknowledged, “What do you need?”

Kel leaned over and pointed to Max’s chest. “Why aren’t you wearing your camp shirt today? Royce and I want to know.”

Max glanced down. He had gotten so used to seeing the muted green of his work tee over his body that the bright red of his street clothes caught even him a bit off-guard.

“I’m taking the next two days off on a personal vacation,” Max explained. “You might not believe it, but I do actually have a life away from this hellhole.”

“It’s not a hellhole,” Royce said plainly.

Max eyed the camper- surprised (and a bit suspicious) when Royce’s eyes contained no single trace of his usual vindictive disgust. In fact, behind the resin-thick layer of hatred in Royce’s gaze, he almost looked _inquisitive._

Max allowed his good mood to operate his mouth, “You’re right, Royce. It’s not a hellhole. It’s my place of gainful, underpaid employment.”

Royce rolled his eyes. He seemed as if he wanted to say something scathing, but before he could utter out something even remotely biting, Kel interrupted him.

“So, where do you live, counselor?”

“I’ve got a little apartment in the city about three hours away,” Max said.

“That’s nice. It sounds good to go home,” Kel murmured, somewhat wistful.

“Yeah,” Royce muttered. “I hope you have a good break, counselor.”

Max furrowed his brow. He waited for the final bitter word to leave Royce’s tongue, but it didn’t come. “Thanks, Royce,” Max said, his voice caught in a stupor.

A tap at Max’s shoulder directed his attention back to Charlie. “Is that the last one?” Max asked.

Charlie nodded.

“Nice. Think it’s going to work?”

Charlie motioned with his hands. Max was nothing like Spencer when it came to translating Charlie’s words, but he was catching on fairly quickly. Charlie usually had the common sense to sign slowly enough for Max to read it without pausing.

 _It will work. The slugs will beg for mercy as they die,_ Charlie signed.

“Jesus freaking Christ, kid,” Max said. “Take it down a notch.”

Charlie smiled brightly and saluted. With his traps completed, he dove back into his soggy cheerios.

As soon as breakfast let out for the morning activities, David made his way over to Max’s table. The two counselors had mutually agreed that instead of forcing Max’s campers into Nikki or Neil’s already full arms, David would take responsibility for them.

“Oh, I’m just so excited!” David grinned from ear to ear. “I haven’t been able to perform any of my old regular counselor duties since I took over the camp. This is going to be wonderfully refreshing.”

“Yeah, don’t crap yourself, David,” Max huffed, feeling an anxious twinge in his gut. “Look, the QM and I fixed up a few of those rusty pulley systems on the stage rig, so those won’t be giving you any trouble. And if Derby fixes two squares on her quilt during Home Living camp, let her go and play basketball with Nikki’s kids- that was our agreement. If you can’t understand Charlie, ask Royce. He knows the most sign language. And-,” Max scrunched up his nose. “The hell is that look for?”

“It’s just a bit amusing, don’t you think?” David asked. “You’re so considerate of your campers. I remember when you weren’t even willing to help pack their things into their tents.”

“I still wouldn’t do that crap,” Max rolled his eyes, pushing the smile that tugged at his cheek back down beneath his skin.

David laughed. “Anyhow, I’m sure they’ll be just fine with me. Enjoy your weekend, Max. You truly deserve it. Just remember to be back by Sunday night; you start again bright and early Monday morning.”

“Count on it, Camp Man,” Max replied.

With that, Max said his goodbyes and headed off towards his car. The cool breeze through his hair seemed to fight his direction, pushing back towards the lake insistently. Max ignored it, instead relishing the feeling of the wind in his face as he walked.

He was unlocking his car door when he heard Neil call out behind him.

“Max! Wait, please.”

Max bristled and locked his jaw- but complied with the request. “Hey,” he muttered.

“I’m not going to bother you for a terribly long time. I just- you know, I thought you might appreciate some extra change for the highway tolls,” Neil stammered. He rubbed the already-red knuckles on his hand.

“Look, Neil, I might not be a Yale graduate or what-the-fuck-ever, but I think I have seventy-five fucking cents in my car,” Max snapped back.

“For the love of-,” Neil groaned. “Do you always have to be so damn _combative?”_

“Suck my dick,” Max narrowed his eyes. The last time he’d heard himself described with that particular adjective, he’d been staring straight into the self-righteous, snobby eyes of Edward Pikeman. The jab seemed no kinder coming from his old best friend.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” Neil ground out.

“Great, thanks,” Max said, his tone plagued with flat-affect.

Neil bit his lip and shifted his weight awkwardly. “So, how do you think things are going to go over with Goodplay?”

Max tensed. “It’ll go.”

Neil looked brutally unconvinced. “Did he even respond to those last texts you sent him?”

“How the hell did you know about those?”

Neil shrugged, going a shade red in the face. “I overheard you talking to Nikki, and-,”

“Un-be-fucking-lievable,” Max said, releasing a noise somewhere at the junction between a scoff and laugh. “Dude, if you have a problem or whatever, just fucking say it.”

“Fine!” Neil said. “I don’t think that this vacation you’re taking is a good idea, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Oh, I’m fucking peached. Thanks, jackass!”

“Can’t you ever just _shut up_ for one second to hear someone else out? I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, Max. I’m just trying to tell you that there’s a very real possibility of you ending up hurt because of this. I mean, Preston never even answers your calls or texts-,”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Max accused. He scanned Neil’s expression, looking for any sense of conflict in the older man’s eyes. “You’re just being a dick because you’re still pissed that I didn’t kiss you back when you were fucking wasted.”

Neil’s face twisted into something scary. “You know what- if you want to be a fucking asshole, then that’s fine. But if you somehow end up needing help, just know that I’ll actually _answer_ your calls. Take the damn change-,” Neil grabbed Max’s wrist and stuffed three quarters into his palm, “-and have a good fucking vacation.”

And before Max could even attempt to get the last word in, Neil turned on his heel and disappeared back into the camp.

Max flicked the man off behind his back before stepping into his car and slamming the door shut. He pressed his forehead to the ring of his steering wheel and exhaled until the most violent spikes of his anger smoothed out. He sat back up straight, flipping open his console and checking to make sur that he hadn’t been speaking out of his ass when he’d claimed to having seventy-five cents in his car.

Thankfully- he hadn’t been. After scrounging up exactly four dimes, six nickels, and five pennies, Max tossed the change Neil had given him out the driver’s side window.

Soon, he was cruising down the highway. Music blasted out of his half-open windows, and the wind tore at his messy hair. He hadn’t gotten it cut since his orientation and so it was starting to grow out again, sloppy at the sides.

Birds streaked past him like bombers, headed towards the city of pine trees behind him.

Max didn’t feel his gut turn until he’d made his way back into the city. Every street corner seemed familiar- but it was the kind of familiarity the felt more like Déjà vu.

Somehow, he found himself taking a detour through a McDonald’s drive-through. By the time he’d arrived home, it was past two.

Max drove aimlessly around the apartment’s parking lot as he searched for a spot. He usually parked in three spaces from the concrete walkway leading up the complex, but somebody had claimed that spot already. Finally, he found a spot near the back of the lot. He parked, got out, locked his car, and pulled on the handle to make sure that it was secure before walking up to the complex’s glass-paned doors.

Max ambled past the door and up the stairs of the building, hesitating as he stood in front of his apartment door.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and fished out his keys. He slid the copper key into the lock- sighing in relief when it slid in as easily as it always had. With a word of encouragement to himself, he twisted the key, and unlocked the door.

Walking into his apartment felt like walking into a hotel room in the way that a hotel room was never necessarily unwelcoming- but always foreign.

The flat looked cleaner than Max had remembered leaving it. Max’s shirts weren’t hanging over the back of the couch, and there were no dirty dishes collecting flies on the dining table. The X-Box Preston had bought Max a few Christmases ago was tucked neatly away beneath the television stand, with all the controller cords rolled up and all the game cases stacked up.

Still, the apartment had taken the kindness of looking lived in. Textbooks for a variety of college classes sat piled up on every remotely horizontal surface, and a pair of wine glasses had been left out on the end table by the couch. Used teabags sat on napkins on the dining room table, next to a cluster of empty mugs.

“Preston? You home?” Max called. He kicked off his shoes by the door, oddly satisfied when they landed off-target from the welcome mat. It felt good to be responsible for at least one mess in his own house.

When no response met him, Max frowned. He tossed his lunch onto the dining table and inched deeper into the jungle of his apartment, the looming sensation of feeling out of place clinging fast to him like a tether.

He felt as if he were breaking and entering into his own apartment.

Max stared at the carpet beneath his feet. Somehow, even the dark spots from his coffee stains had been lifted out.

He stepped into the bathroom, beyond pissed to find that even his shower curtains had been replaced. The sink counter looked almost untouched.

Max drew up his lip in disgust and turned to leave. But before he could commit himself to delving even deeper into the remainder of the nonconsensual remodeling done to his apartment, he caught his reflection in the sink mirror and stopped dead in his tracks.

Max pressed his fingers to his jaw.

He had expected his time at camp to age him- but he hadn’t expected the change to be so drastic. And he certainly didn’t think he’d end up looking _younger_.

He had never noticed it when looking into the bathroom mirrors at camp, but when he juxtaposed himself against the context of his apartment, the differences were glaring. His eyes looked brighter and more focused, and the beginnings of laugh-lines were beginning to form along them. He’d gained a slight tan from his time outside, and he no longer scowled so deeply.

His jaw seemed sharper, and his body trimmer. A layer of muscle that hadn’t been there before sat on his arms from his daily regimen of manual labor.

Max blinked, shaking himself out of his own gaze. He wondered idly if Preston would find his changes handsome.

With one last sideways glance towards the mirror, Max left the bathroom. There was only one room left in the house, and Max found himself moving almost gingerly towards it.

He sighed in relief upon seeing that his bedroom looked mostly untouched. Angeline was still hung up on the wall- though she was now half-obscured by a small heap of dirty laundry. A few sweaters were scattered along the floor, and the bed was unmade. Failed drafts of Preston’s writing sat in a miniature landfill next to the playwright’s desk.

As soon as Max directed his attention to the desk, a bright red playbill caught his eye. Max grabbed it, eyes quickly scanning the front. The name of Preston’s college acting troupe and the production’s title, _Guys and Dolls_ , was printed over a flattering image of Preston and Marcus linking arms with two pretty-looking girls.

Max snatched the playbill before heading back to the dining room to eat.

He’d seen more than enough of his apartment to get the message that the sun had continued to rise and set in his absence. But there was still one thing he was compelled to check- if only to find out if he himself might have the honor of being timeless.

Max thumbed through the playbill as he absentmindedly chewed on his fast food. He read through the list of actors, lingering as his eyes found Preston’s bio. His eyes scanned the short passage to find the dedication that he had been hoping to find.

 _“Preston Goodplay (Nathan Detroit, Head Director)_ – _A member of the Lake Community College senior acting troupe for over four years and the head director of two productions prior to this one, Preston is eager to emerge in his second lead role as “reliable” Nathan Detroit…”_

Max felt the tightness in his chest unravel like the kite string wound about a spool as his eyes fell upon the next line:

_“…He dedicates his performance to Max.”_

Max snorted in fondness, folding the playbill back up and setting it down on the table. So, he was still important to Preston. At least, he had been at the time that they had printed these particular playbills.

Max checked the time on his phone and suddenly recalled the date. Back at camp, the weekdays seemed to melt together until Saturday arrived. But now that he was home, he was starkly aware that the date was Friday. With a rush of relief, he remembered in addition that Preston’s Friday classes were in the afternoon.

The ease of repetition began to seep into Max’s head. He knew that Preston would finish his class at four, stop to talk and order tea at the college café, and then be home shortly after.

With a clearer head, Max threw his trash away and settled himself on the couch. The imperfect lumps in the cushions adjusted to conform to the changes in his body, and for the first time, he felt at home.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

* * *

 

When Max woke up, it was nearly five. He groaned, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and pressing his palms into the cool couch cushions beneath him to gather a sense of his own surroundings. It felt surreal to wake up outside of his cabin. He had grown so used to being greeted from his sleep with the scent of wet wood and grass that the tight, smoky air of his apartment felt nearly claustrophobic.

Max stretched out and looked around. There were no signs that Preston had arrived back yet. The wound in Max’s gut reopened with a fresh spike of anxiety.

Standing up, Max took in a deep breath that offered him little oxygen before heading back into his room. He flicked on the sulfur-colored ceiling light and took in the empty space. Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest shirt and tossed it into the laundry bin that sat dutifully in the corner of the room. Max often found that it helped to put himself familiar in the wake of anxiety.

He had nearly filled the bin when he spotted it out of the corner of his eye. It was an unfamiliar blue sweater that had been shoved between the back of his bed and the wall. Max tugged it out, examining it. On the chest was a faded logo that belonged to one of the nearby high schools. On the back was a name.

_MOORE_

Max felt his mouth go dry. The sweater fell to the floor.

Max raced to the kitchen table, fumbling with the nearby lamp as he tore open the _Guys and Dolls_ playbill.

And then, right there under Preston’s name, Max saw it. “Motherfucker,” he whispered beneath his breath.

_“Marcus Moore (Sky Masterson, Assistant Director)”_

Max felt like puking. Marcus had been in his house. Not only that- Marcus had been in his _bed._

And Marcus had tried to erase Max from his own apartment. Max had to catch himself on the edge of the table as the realization had hit him.

His shirts had been tucked out of view. His shower curtains had been switched out. Hell, even his fucking _coffee-stains_ had been scoured out of the rugs. Max’s head spun. He stumbled to the kitchen and opened up the fridge. He needed something to drink. That would settle him down.

Instead, Max only felt his heart slam in his chest even harder as he stared into the printed cases of the newest additions to his fridge: a box of cheap bagged Merlot, a twelve-pack of beer, and a half-full bottle of fireball whiskey.

Max slammed the door shut and tried to push down the memories of his old house that threatened to surge back into his head like a tidal wave. He shook off the feeling of a fist around his shirt and grabbed his cellphone. He knew where Preston was now. He was sure of it.

He pulled up a Yellow Pages site and entered the required information for a reverse look-up: a name and a general county. As soon as the website supplied him with an address, he snatched his keys off the table, slid his shoes back on, and left without locking the door behind him.

Max had been to Marcus’ house only once before- he’d been coerced by Preston to attend a wrap-party that had been held there a year or so prior. Marcus lived in the richer suburbs a few miles away from the city in a comfortable two-story house. As soon as he rolled up to Marcus’ street, Max recognized it instantly.

The sky was painted a with a muted lilac by the sun. The sound of crickets and smell of late summer surrounded Max as he parked on the side of the road and stepped out of his car. He shoes crunched upon the gravel of the asphalt beneath him.

Max headed up the driveway without a breath of hesitation. He clenched his fist and locked his jaw firmly in place before banging on the Marcus’ mahogany doors.

Eventually, the knob turned- revealing a boy who looked to be about Charlie’s age. He had a ten-dollar bill in his small hands.

“You ain’t the pizza man,” the boy frowned, turning the cash over in his fingers.

“Uh, no- I’m not,” Max stammered awkwardly, shaken. “Is… is Marcus home?”

The boy squinted. “I dunno if I’m s’posed to tell you,” he said. “Mom and Dad are always tellin’ me not to talk to no strangers.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not a stranger,” Max lied. “I’m… I’m a friend of Marcus’.”

The boy put his hand up to his chin and made a comical _“Hmm”_ noise. After looking Max up and down, he nodded in approval. “I guess your story checks out pretty good. Also, Mom and Dad ain’t even home right now, so they couldn’t ground me if they wanted to.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “This is your parents’ house?”

“Yeah-huh. Anyways, my bro is home tonight, so I’ll get him for you. Wait here, mister.”

Max thanked the boy, who then promptly disappeared into the house. Alone and now curious, Max craned his neck to peer inside. From his spot at the doorway, he could make out a small sliver of the living room. It was well-decorated, with expensive furniture and full, warm lighting. A paused game played on the television. Below that, a small collection of framed family portraits sat on a television stand.

The last time Max had seen Marcus, the man had been caked in stage-makeup and had been pinching a cigarette between his teeth. He had assumed that Marcus was older. But as Max looked closer at the portrait of Marcus, he noticed the familiar high school logo printed on the border.

“Here he is!” the boy called out.

Max jolted, leaning back to hide the evidence of his investigation.

As soon as Marcus came into view, Max frowned. “Marcus Moore.”

Marcus’ eyes seemed to widen for a moment. But then, with all the tact of a trained professional, he quickly disguised his shock with a brilliant stage-smile. “Max! If it isn’t my favorite friend-of-a-friend.” Marcus’ eyes fell back down to his younger brother. “Michael, what did Mom and Dad say about answering the door for strangers?”

“I thought you ordered pizza,” Michael huffed.

“I _made_ you macaroni.”

“I know, but I also wanted pizza.”

Marcus sighed. Cue a short, _‘oh-you-little-rascal’_ -esque laugh. “Kids,” he remarked. “I’m sure you know exactly what it’s like now that you’re a camp counselor.”

“Sure, whatever,” Max dismissed. “Marcus, I need to-,”

“Hang on there- just what kind of terrible host am I? I didn’t even offer you anything to drink. Do you want a drink?” Marcus put on a strained smile that looked all-too-relaxed.

“I don’t want a drink, asshole-,”

“No need to be polite, man. My house is your house. Hey, Michael, how about you get my buddy here, Max, a can of Coors?” Marcus patted Michael on the shoulder.

Michael offered his older brother a quick army-styled salute before rushing off into the house.

“I don’t drink,” Max snapped.

“Of course you don’t, man. I’m just trying to get the little guy out of here. He doesn’t need to hear grown-up talk,” Marcus said. His radiant smile dropped instantly, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Marcus!” Michael called from somewhere within the house. “Are you sure we got Coors! I can’t find none!”

“It’s there somewhere, buddy! Keep looking!” Marcus called back. He directed his attention back to Max and grinned. “That’ll distract him for, like, an hour. Kids are gullible as hell, man. Come on, let’s sit down on the porch.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Sure.”

Marcus stepped out and eased the door shut behind him. He took a seat on the porch swing and glanced expectantly towards Max.

Max accepted the silent invitation with a breath for pause and sat down across from Marcus on a dainty white porch chair that appeared to be a far better decoration that it ever would be a useful seat. Marcus clapped his hands together and looked at Max as if he were interviewing the older man for a startup company internship.

“So, what brings you from your day-job? Didn’t happen to get fired, did you?”

“Cut the shit, Marcus. I saw your sweater in my apartment. Now where the fuck is Preston?” Max snapped. A casual meanness spread across Max’s face so naturally that it almost gave him a sense of relief.

Marcus’ smile dropped, and the young man sighed. “Preston warned me that you were one hell of a callous guy. Looks like he wasn’t kidding around.”

Max ignored the jab. “I’m not here to make fucking small talk. Where is he?”

“Why would I know?”

Max felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He forced himself to relax and take in steady breaths, feeling like a human capacitor for his own rage. “Look, jackass; you might be able to play these games with an eight-year-old, but I’m not falling for that shit. Let me talk to him."

“Even he was- for whatever reason- here, do you really think I’d let you talk to him?” Marcus asked, a new edge to his dangerously steady voice. His face looked solemn and pissed- and for once, he didn’t look like he was acting. “What, are you planning to play with his fucking emotions for another eight years?”

“I never played with his emotions-,”

“Then let me get this right: letting someone believe that you had a romantic relationship with them when you in fact had no desire to commit to them- that’s not playing with someone’s emotions?”

Max gritted his teeth. “It’s more complicated than that, you prick.”

“Oh, Preston told me all about it. And truthfully, I think it’s really hard to believe that you had _absolutely no idea_ that Preston thought you two were together.” Marcus said. “Look, man. You don’t fucking own him. Quit acting like you have some divine right to him or something.”

Max leaned forward until he had broken in through Marcus’ personal space. “Keep acting like you know shit, kid. I’ll punch your fucking teeth in.”

Marcus seemed unfazed. “You know, Preston mentioned that you might have some abusive tendencies. You want to hurt me? Go ahead, asshole. You’d only be proving me right.”

Max felt like a sentient puppet. He could feel the strings tangling around his limbs, and he could see them all leading back to Marcus’ hand. But even still, his emotions got to his fists before his rational thinking, and in an instant, he had one fist twisted around Marcus’ arm, and the other positioned like a spring-loaded weapon against his side.

And then suddenly, the door opened.

“Marcus, pray tell- why did Michael wake me up to help him find a can of- _Max?”_

Max’s eyes were ripped away from Marcus to meet the pale face of his roommate. Preston’s eyes were wider, and his jaw fell slack.

Max forced himself to stare back at Marcus. “You fucking lied.”

“Maybe I did. But listen up, asshole,” Marcus sneered. And though he was the one being pulled an inch off of the ground by his arm, Marcus suddenly seemed like he was the one in control. “You had your chance. And you used it to play that amazing guy over there for eight years. You’re a fucking loser with no real job, and no real future, and you _know_ you don’t deserve someone like Preston. You want to prove that you give a shit about him so badly? Then leave before you get his hopes up. You broke him, Max. And I swear to God that I will not let you break him again.”

Max’s breath shook. He felt a hand unclench around Marcus’ chest as if some faulty code had unwired the nerves in his fingers. “Fine,” Max said softly. He backed away, eyes flickering away from Marcus and onto Preston.

And in that moment, Max wanted to do so many things. He wanted to smile with all the kindness that he’d learned, and he wanted to tell Preston how much he’d missed him. He wanted to drive them both back to their apartment and reclaim the space as his. And most of all, he wanted to drive a fist into the space between Marcus’ eyes.

But he knew none of those things would change the definite givens: that none of those things were possible, and that Marcus was _right_.

And so, Max did nothing.

“Maxwell?” Preston murmured.

“You got a haircut,” Max said quietly. He let his eyes take in one last image of Preston, wondering if it were a sin to overwrite the last one, which had been so beautiful and golden. Max tried to smile- but failed halfway through. “It looks good on you.”

“What are you-,”

“I’m sorry, Preston. I hope he gives you everything you expect out of him.”

And with that, Max left. And he didn’t look back once.

* * *

 

Max didn’t even register driving back to his apartment.

He let himself back in through the unlocked door, though immediately regretted his decision as soon as he smelled the suffocating reek of Marcus’ cigarette smoke that leaked from every pore in the drywall.

Max stiffened his jaw as he looked around his apartment. The small cardboard box now seemed unfriendly to him. Confined instead of cozy- and smothering instead of comforting. Max decided that there was no reason left to stay.

He hoped David wouldn’t mind it if he cut his vacation a bit early.

Max made one last stop at the fridge before leaving. He opened it and stared inside for a minute before stealing the half-empty bottle of whisky and taking it with him as he slammed the apartment door shut behind him and stormed off to his car.

He tossed the bottle into the passenger’s seat to keep him company as he drove home.

The drive returning was much less festive than the drive departing. Max had silenced the radio in his car, and the skies were a dead and empty black. Even his windows had been rolled up, as the lack of sun had made the wind far too cold to bear with at seventy miles-per-hour.

Max didn’t relax until he had parked his car into the lot near the counselor’s office. He took a sideways glance at the bottle of whiskey that he’d taken with him. He’d grabbed it in a spiteful rush- and now, he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

He had gotten drunk only once before in his life. He had been fourteen and depressed, and he’d smuggled a few cans of his father’s beer out of the house to impress his friends. And though he had laughed about it and had played along to make an effective ass out of himself in the moment, as soon as he’d sobered up, he came to the realization that he had hated every moment of it.

And here he was again- a decade later, and in a similar position.

But he wasn’t trying to impress anyone this time. There was none of the jittery giddiness and false-bravado that accompanied a first drink.

This time, there was nothing except the miserable fire raging in his gut and the desperate need to extinguish it before it spread.

For the first time in a long time, Max had nobody to blame. There wasn’t a single person he could displace his anger towards anymore- not David, or Pikeman, or Neil, or Royce. Not even Marcus. And so, instead of being allowed the privilege of feeling anger, Max was left with nothing but the emptiness of defeat.

And that emptiness was one thousand times more brutal than agony had ever been.

Max unscrewed the cap and tentatively tipped the hard liquor back. He choked as the liquid slid down his throat like the fuel for a Molotov cocktail.

“Jesus fuck, that’s disgusting.”

He stared at the rust-colored drink and idly recalled something that one of Preston’s theater friends had told him once at a bar. She had been an awfully clingy girl, and she had slung an arm around Max as she gave him a half-smile and slurred into his ear, “Yeah, alcohol tastes kind of shitty. But it’s a tradeoff for being sober, which is really much shittier if you think about it.”

Max decided that it might do him a justice to feel something for once, and suddenly even the burn of whiskey started to seem appealing to him. He steeled himself for another shot of the fiery drink and tipped back the bottle again.

By the following hour, Max was feeling the world spin around him. He fumbled with his phone and stared at the clock display.

Half-past ten. Shit- he had to get back to his cabin before David caught him drunk off his ass on camp grounds. Max half-stepped, half-tripped out of his car and tried to shake off his stupor before kicking the door shut and staggering back to his cabin.

He cut through the main activities field and cursed as he saw the campers filing back in from the campfire pit. As the campers made their way back to the tents to turn in for the night, Max caught sight of Royce.

Royce gave Max a confused look before jogging up to him.

Fuck, Max thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hi, counselor.”

Max said nothing- to absorbed in his efforts to keep his balance and not puke.

“Short vacation, huh? David was a really good counselor today,” Royce paused. “Anyways, I guess it’s good that you’re here because I’ve kind of been wanting to tell you something.”

“Yeah… uh, yes?” Max hummed, tilting his head like an especially stupid dog.

Royce nodded before taking in a deep breath of resignation. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I spent my whole summer trying to get you fired, and I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time when all you were trying to do was your job. It’s taken me longer than I’d like to admit, but I’m starting to realize that you really do care about us in your own way.”

“Royce,” Max leaned down. “Kid. Can… can I fucking speak something to you real quick?”

Royce furrowed his brow. “Counselor, are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fucking swell. Peachy. As a peach. But- but let me give you a quick lesson here, kid. And that lesson is this: Caring is for fucking morons. As soon as you give a shit, you’re standing in an active shooting range with a target on your back, holding a sign that says, ‘hurt me!’.” Max paused to hold down a wave of nausea before continuing. “I gave a shit once, Royce, and you wanna know where the fuck that got me? I’m twenty-four, stuck in the same goddamned… same goddamned place I was a decade ago, and apparently Preston is fucking around with a nineteen-year-old. This is what you get when you care, Royce! This is your grand _fucking_ future when you give a shit!”

Max leaned in close enough for Royce to feel his alcohol-thickened breath. “You understand, you little shit?”

Royce reeled back. “Are- are you _drunk,_ counselor?”

Max’s eyes went wide. He shushed Royce quickly and looked around for David. When the coast was clear, he spoke. “Sh. Shut up, kid. And don’t go ratting off to David, or I’ll make you fucking sorry. Got me?”

“I-I can’t believe you!” Royce hissed, his breath shaky. His lower lip trembled, and he’d drawn his hands into fists hard enough to turn his knuckles sheet-white. “And Kel almost convinced me to _trust_ you.”

Max didn’t say anything. He was too enamored with the look of terror hidden under Royce’s fury. It looked familiar, somehow.

“I was right about you, counselor. You’re a monster,” Royce choked out. “You’re a monster, and I hate you.”

“Yeah, you’re not a super pleasant kid to work with either,” Max growled back.

“I hate you,” Royce snarled again.

He gave Max one last look of disgust before stalking away towards his tent. Max rolled his eyes and kept heading straight towards his cabin.

As soon as Max got inside, he clumsily shook his sneakers off and crashed down on his bed.

“Max? Is that you?” Neil’s voice hummed in the air. Max hardly even heard it over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. Neil sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Max groaned.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll let you be. Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to David while we’re on our night hike. Get some sleep, man.”

Despite his state, Max still found enough sense in his head to mutter back a sloppy, “Thanks, Neil.”

Max listened as Neil tied up his boots, and the last sound he heard before crashing hard into the blackness of sleep was the sound of his cabin door closing.

* * *

 

When Max woke up, it was at three in the morning, and it was to a frantic banging on his cabin door. He woke with a start, and immediately clutched at his sobered, hungover skull.

Amazingly, his first drunk hangover in a decade didn’t hurt nearly as badly as he imagined it would. Negating the small throb in his temples, he felt just as normal and sleep-deprived as he usually was.

Max got up to answer the door, but David beat him to it.

“Counselors!” Royce sobbed hysterically. He was covered up to his shoulders in mud and grass stains. “It’s Kel!”

“What’s wrong?” David asked, his bleary eyes focusing instantly.

“He… We were on a hike and… h-he fell!”

“Fell where?” Max demanded.

“Into the river!” Royce cried.

David seemed to wind up like a motor toy. He aimed a finger in Neil’s direction, “Neil, get Nikki. You watch the campers and have her ready to set up the infirmary at a moment’s notice.”

“Of course,” Neil said. He hustled out of the cabin, not bothering to put on shoes. Max heard him as he banged on Nikki’s cabin door.

“You,” David said, stealing back Max’s attention. He paused, staring at Max for a moment as if some part of him noticed that something was off. However, his panicked brain seemed to shake off the minor details, and he continued his orders. “Grab a flashlight. You’re coming with me.”

David turned to Royce. “Now, where is he?”

Royce nodded and wiped his eyes. “I think I know. Come follow me.”

With Royce leading them, the two counselors raced off. Though he’d been sobered by sleep and shock, the world still looked fuzzy at the edges as Max ran. His muscle memory shot off orders to his legs to keep pace.

Max kept his eyes up as he ran through the forest, keeping his flashlight trained on the space ahead of him as he navigated himself over the brambles and roots of the forest floor.

Soon, Max could hardly hear over the roar of the current as it tore through the earth.

“Where from here?” David called.

Royce paused. “I-I don’t know! When he fell I just got so panicked and I-,”

“Max,” David cut Royce off. “Take the north side. I’ll handle the south.”

“Got it.”

With that, the two counselors split ways. Thanks to the countless counselor hikes that David had forced him to go on, Max knew the river better than the back of his hand- and he knew that while it had forged a path through the entire forest, there was only one small section of it that would be dangerous enough to warrant danger.

He found himself jogging along the same place where Nikki had almost fallen in- where the rapids looked vicious enough to take even someone as large as him down.

Max turned on his flashlight and aimed it at the black rush of water beneath him. His eyes scoured the surface.

“Counselor!” Royce called, pointing out into the river. Max followed the camper’s direction until he caught it: a yellow camp shirt clinging desperately to a half-broken tree branch. Kel was only a yard or so deep into the river, but it was still too far of a reach for Max to pull himself back to safety from the shore.

Kel gripped tightly to the loose branch, his head half-submerged under the torrent of river water. Occasionally, he drew upon a reserve of his strength to pull himself up just long enough to gasp at the air before being pushed back under the water.

“Shit, Kel! Hang on!” Max hollered.

He eased his way down the steep river ledge and grounded his feet as he waded through the current. The black water rose up to his chest, and the current threatened to collapse him with every step. Max shuffled closer to Kel until he was almost close enough to reach out and grab the boy’s arm.

And then Kel let go.

It happened instantly- his yellow shirt vanished beneath the cold water as if a monster had taken him whole. Max’s eyes went wide, and he dove in instantly after. His arms waved wildly through the water in a desperate attempt to feel for the camper.

Max felt panic well up in his chest. He screamed into the rapids fruitlessly.

“Kel!”

The crushing wave of grief hit Max like a train as he kept pushing through the river. His voice grew hoarse as he screamed. His arms fought the water with weaker and weaker movements. He lost his footing and fell, coughing madly on inhaled river-water as he resurfaced.

He had almost given up.

And then he saw Kel’s arm shoot above the water.

All of Max’s strength flooded back into his systems. He dove towards Kel’s arm, nearly sobbing in relief as his hands caught hold of the young boy’s body.

Max pulled Kel out of the water and slung the boy over his shoulder. Adrenaline pushed him back towards the shore, and he found a purchase on a stone wedged half-way into the riverbank’s ledge. He used it to haul both himself and Kel up. Max dropped Kel unceremoniously onto the safe, grassy ledge, collapsing himself as soon as the boy had been taken out of immediate danger.

Kel heaved for breath and puked up water.

“Jesus, Kel!” Max roared, his voice gravelly from effort. “What the _hell_ were you doing?”

Kel flinched. He puked up more water and debilitated himself with coughing. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out between bouts of hacking fits.

“Kel, crap, are you okay?” Royce interjected, eyes wide. The camper was shaking, his hands tightened into fists. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-,”

“You jerk!” Kel growled, shoving Royce away from him. “I told you that I didn’t want to do this! You said it would be safe, but you _lied!”_

“Kel, I didn’t know-,”

“I don’t know how to swim!” Kel burst out. “You know that I can’t swim!”

“I didn’t think you meant it like that!” Royce yelled back.

“Shut the hell up, both of you!” Max roared.

The two boys fell quiet.

“Now, tell me what the hell is happening. One at a time.”

Kel wiped at his eyes. “It’s all Royce’s fault, sir,” he hissed bitterly. “I don’t even know why he hates you so much. He- he thought this we could get you fired. I didn’t want to go along with it but I-,” Kel fell victim to another fit of coughing. He brought up more phlegm and spit and shakily got to his feet.

“I didn’t want you to get _hurt_ ,” Royce murmured. “I… I just had to. Max can’t…”

“Kid, you pulled this shit just so that you could get me fucking fired? Are you fucking insane?”

Royce looked at Max, his eyes brimming with remorse. In a cruel and cathartic way, it was almost satisfying.

“Quit fucking crying,” Max snapped. “Now you listen here: I’ve been taking your shit for this entire summer, but I’m not going to tolerate this. _You_ snuck out of camp after curfew. _You_ lead Kel here, and _you_ were responsible for putting him in danger. If anyone’s going home, kid, it’s _you_.”

Royce tensed. “What?”

“I’ll tell you how this works, Royce. I’ve only seen David send a kid home on one occasion for endangerment, but we’re about to make that two. If what Kel says is the truth, you’re never going to see this camp again.”

Royce’s gaze hardened. He dug a shaky hand into his hair. “David wouldn’t do that,” he said, though the confidence in his voice warbled. “You’re… you’re lying.”

Max frowned as he took in the slight shift in Royce’s demeanor- the satisfying remorse on Royce’s face was starting to morph into an alarming horror. Suddenly, the boy looked less like the villain he had made himself to be, and more like the scared kid that he really was.

“He can’t send me home. He can’t,” Royce mumbled, his voice cracking with fear. He looked pale now- panicked. Max could see the stutter in his breathing as it wracked his chest.

And suddenly, Max realized why Royce had looked so familiar to him when he had been drunk. Max had seen every aspect of Royce’s panic before, and he had seen it all on his own face in the dirty mirror of his parents’ bathroom. And suddenly, Max saw himself. He saw his turbulent eyes, the premature stress lines over his face, and his trademark defensive scowl.

And from his mouth, Royce spoke. “Max,” Royce choked out, “I don’t want to go home.”

Max moved to speak, but before he could say anything, the sound of footsteps approached him. Max hauled himself to his feet.

“Max! Oh, thank God!” David cried. “You found him! I look all up the south side and- oh, I thought…”

“It doesn’t matter, David,” Max said softly, nudging David back into reality. “He’s safe. That’s what matters.”

“You’re certainly correct,” David sighed. He bent down and took note of all the visible gashes on Kel’s cheek and arms. “What on earth happened here?” David asked. The man busied himself to keep his composure, but Max knew that only one name was running in circles through his head: _Jasper_.

“Mr. David, Royce-,”

“Royce didn’t do anything,” Max interrupted. Kel looked as if he were about to protest, but Max gripped his shoulder hard enough to make him wince and keep quiet. “It’s my fault, David. I came back drunk from home, and I sent Royce and Kel on a hike.”

David stood straight up and glared hard at Max. And for the first time in his life, Max felt genuinely afraid of the man.

“You _what?_ You came back drunk? And you told these boys to leave camp grounds after curfew to go on a _hike?”_

It was only a half-lie. Max swallowed hard and forced the image of Royce’s terrified brown eyes into his head as he spoke. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Max could see the veins in David’s neck pop as the older counselor struggled to keep his composure. “We are going to perform the standard medical procedures on Kel, and then I want you in my fucking office. Do you understand, Maxwell?”

Max winced. “Understood.”

“Counselor, wh-,”

“Quiet, Kel,” Max snapped. “Can you walk?”

Kel looked indignant for a moment, but at Max’s expression, quieted. “Yes, sir. I can.”

“Then let’s go.”

As instructed, Nikki had prepared the camp’s infirmary, and was waiting outside at the ready as Max and the others approached. The old camp medical center had been a rickety old shack with a used cot in the center and a first-aid kit. But now with all of the renovations, the infirmary was beginning to look like a miniature hospital room, with a blood pressure monitor and a medical ventilator.

There was almost no need for all of the improvements however, as David kept a case of general first aid equipment in his office, and there was usually no need to set any hurt camper on a surface more technologically advanced than David’s desk.

But despite his apparent ability to walk, nobody could deny that Kel looked way too banged up to exhaust himself while David rationed the last bottle of peroxide in his drawers.

“Thank you, Nikki,” David said as they walked into the infirmary. “Can you please go into my filing cabinet and pull out forms A17 and B3? A17 might be hard to find, but it’s bright pink. You can’t miss it.”

Nikki nodded without question and headed off.

Max helped Kel on the counter in the center of the room.

In the clinical overhead light of the infirmary, Kel looked even worse than he had in the forest. His entire right side was scraped and bloody, and his body was caked in a thick layer of mud. He shivered in the air-conditioned room.

“Royce,” David said, “Can you find me another change of clothes for Kel, please?”

“S-sure,” Royce said, still visibly rattled.

David thanked him and turned his eyes back to Kel. “Where does it hurt? Did you hit your head? How much water did you take in?”

“It hurts on my arms and my face,” Kel said. He bit his lower lip and paused for a moment before adding, “And a little on my ribs, too, sir.” Kel hugged his arms to his chest and averted his eyes. “I don’t think I hit my head, though. And I probably puked up most of the water already.”

“Okay, good. Let me find my gauze. Max, get the peroxide.”

Max obeyed without question, opening up the storage cabinet and pulling out two brown bottles of hydrogen peroxide and a clean dishtowel.

The two men went to work quickly, disinfecting the worst of Kel’s scratches before bandaging it up. Kel complained once or twice about the sting of the peroxide on his open cuts but otherwise was quiet.

David tapped at Kel’s shirt. “Now can you take that off? I’d like to see your ribs. You said they hurt, correct?”

Kel froze. “No, you can’t.” he said.

“Kel-,”

“It’s fine! I don’t think they’re even bleeding or anything. Just a little sore. Please, David.”

Something seemed to click in David’s head, and he blinked. “Oh, right. Of course. We’ll get Nikki to check tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Thank you,” Kel bit his lip.

Max’s eyes flickered in confusion between the camper and head counselor before him, but he thought better than to push it.

The door squeaked behind him as Royce returned with a fresh pair of shorts and a hoodie. “Here-,”

Kel snatched the clothing out of Royce’s hands gracelessly.

“Kel, how about you change right in the bathroom over there?” David asked, pointing to the single stall that had been refurbished into the infirmary. Kel nodded, hopping off the counter and disappearing behind the stall door.

As soon as he was gone, David’s gentle expression creased. “You’re free to go, Royce. Listen, though. I know you’re smart enough to understand that you should _never_ under any circumstances leave the camp after hours.”

Royce winced. “I’m so, so, sorry. I’m… I’m not being sent home, am I?”

David sighed, and a look of pity crossed his face. “Of course not. Let me clarify: none of this was your fault, Royce. I just need you to understand something: you’ve been here for a long time, and a lot of the other campers look up to you for guidance. I need you to be more careful, okay? You need to be a role-model.”

Royce seemed to let go of the breath that he’d been holding. “I will.”

“Thank you. Rest well, Royce.”

“You too, counselor.”

Royce casted Max one last glance as he turned to leave. It was purely unreadable. Not hatred, not gratitude, and not victory. Perhaps it was a new emotion altogether- an odd mix of all three.

Kel emerged from the bathroom as soon as the door shut behind Royce. He held a crumpled heap of clothing in his hands.

“Max, you will be washing those tonight,” David said, eyes buried into a form on the infirmary desk.

Max nodded, grabbing the clothes from Kel and tucking them under his arm. They were soaked, but then again- so was he.

“I need to go to the counselor’s office to get some paperwork. Max, you stay here with Kel,” David said shortly. He smacked his pen down on the table and briskly walked away.

Kel spoke up as soon as David left. “I can take those, counselor. You don’t have to wash them or anything.”

“It’s okay, Kel,” Max sighed.

Kel bit his lower lip and seemed to stew in something for a moment before shaking it off. “Counselor, why did you take the blame? Royce wins now. You’re going to get into trouble, just like he wanted.”

“I’m probably going to get fired, yeah,” Max agreed.

“Then _why_ would you say it was your fault? You shouldn’t get fired just because Royce thinks you should be.”

“I just want to keep you all safe,” Max said, his voice riddled with defeat. “That’s all.”

“Was Royce really going to be sent home?”

Max shrugged. “Truthfully, I don’t know. David used to be pretty lenient when I was younger going here. In fact, the only kid I ever saw get sent home before the end of camp wound up going to juvenile hall. But back then, David was just a regular counselor, like me. Now he _owns_ the place. There’s a lot of legal stuff to deal with now that he has all of that responsibility.”

“Oh,” Kel said. “I’m not going to be best friends with Royce anymore. He’s mean.”

Max sighed. He took in the patchwork of bandages and gauze over Kel’s body, and a twinge of something protective plagued his gut. “Yeah,” Max conceded, “He is.”

But despite all the surface injuries, Kel still smiled brightly as he faced Max and said, “Thank you for saving me, sir.”

And in spite of everything, Max smiled back. “Anytime, kid.”

David walked into the infirmary soon after. He examined Kel one last time before allowing the boy to leave. “Get some rest tonight,” David said. “Nikki’s outside, and she’ll take you to your tent.”

“Okay.”

David watched as Kel limped out of the infirmary. As soon as the door eased shut behind him, David’s face went dark.

“So,” he said, his perpetually-chipper voice now all-too-clinical. He held up a glaring, pink sheet of paper in his hand. “You came back into camp grounds intoxicated. You encouraged two of your campers to leave camp unattended, and after curfew. You directly contributed to the serious injury and the endangerment of a camper. Do you have any objection to these statements?”

“No,” Max said firmly.

There was an eerily calm clearness in his head- as if he were a man settling his neck into the guillotine. There was some odd comfort of knowing the hour of your own death.

“Splendid,” David said flatly. “Then here’s your termination of employment. Sign, please.”

Max obeyed. He handed the paper back. David stared at it for a moment before sighing deeply. The head counselor suddenly looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past three hours.

“I’m extremely disappointed in you,” David confessed plainly. “You may continue to stay at camp until the end of your vacation. But from now on- you are prohibited from taking any responsibility for any of the campers, as well as from any quartering duties you may have. And after Sunday, I don’t want to see your face in my camp for the rest of the summer.”

“That can be arranged,” Max nodded.

There was a dull silence.

David scoffed. “Don’t you have anything to say, Maxwell? You can’t possibly be proud of yourself.”

“I’m not proud,” Max assured him. “But I don’t know what you fucking expect me to say.”

David sighed. “I suppose nothing,” he murmured. David coaxed Max out of the infirmary and locked the door behind him. “Goodnight, Max.” he said somberly, walking back towards the counselor cabins. “Please finish Kel’s clothes before you turn in.”

“Of course, David.”

And then Max was alone. He wasted no time in making his way to the laundry house, though he dragged his feet as he walked.

About halfway there, he heard someone behind him. “Royce,” he greeted without turning.

“Can I walk with you?”

“David said that I’m not allowed to take responsibility of any of you anymore, but I guess I can’t get more fired than I already am. Sure. How long were you waiting for me?”

“Only for a little,” Royce said.

The sun had started to peer over the pines, allowing Max enough light to operate in the laundry room without having flick the fluorescent bulbs on. Max fished the detergent out of the cabinet.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Royce said finally.

Max laughed bitterly. “You got what you wanted, Royce. Does that make you feel happier?” Max started unravelling Kel’s clothes.

“You… you weren’t supposed to be drinking on camp grounds,” Royce said, not answering Max’s question. “I had to do something.”

“You had to put another camper in danger?”

Royce winced, wringing his oversized flannel between his fists. “I didn’t mean to actually hurt him. I thought he’d be able to handle it because he was in stunt camp. And- and David wouldn’t’ve fired you if you just came back drunk. I didn’t think the river was that fast. I didn’t know Kel couldn’t swim. I just thought he never wanted to because- well, you know, right?”

“Because of what?” Max asked.

But he didn’t have to finish his own question. Stuffed into the arm of Kel’s shirt were two rolled-up sports bras. Max furrowed his brow as the circuits in his brain connected before glancing back at Royce. “Is Kel…?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret. He didn’t want anyone to know,” Royce admitted.

“Does David know?” Max asked, recalling that David had assigned _Nikki_ to examine Kel’s ribs over himself.

“David knows. Melody and I know, too. But nobody else does, because Kel’s afraid that if people find out he’s trans, they won’t see him as a boy anymore.”

Max nodded, furrowing his brow as he shoved the rest of Kel’s clothes into the washer and turned it on. The low rumble of machinery filled the air.

Max sat down on the wooden bench that had been mounted into the middle of the laundry room. At Royce’s questioning glance, Max patted the space next to him in a nonverbal offer to sit. Royce complied gingerly.

“Look, Royce,” Max exhaled, and felt the last of his fight leave with the oxygen in his lungs, “That shit I said about caring earlier- I was drunk, and you shouldn’t believe any of it. Giving a shit is one of the bravest fucking things that you can do. Hell, learning to care about you campers was the only thing that made this shitty job worth it.”

“I care about Camp Campbell more than anything,” Royce said.

Max cracked the ghost of a smile. “Believe me, kid. I know.”

And suddenly, the air between the two became clearer. There was no tension anymore. No hatred, and no fear. All that remained was the semblance of a mutual understanding, and the willingness to move on past it.

“I’m sorry you got fired,” Royce said. “I’m sorry that it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, kid. I was the one who drank and ended up scaring the shit out of you.” Max laughed airily.

Royce picked at the skin on the back of his hand. “Counselor, that Preston guy you mentioned-,”

“It’s nothing serious. Drunk, remember? Now get to your tent. Morning call is in three hours.”

Royce smiled, and his tired eyes crinkled at the corners. “Alright. Goodnight, counselor.”

Max watched as the boy headed back towards the camp. He folded his elbows over his legs and tried hard not to think about anything. Because the truth was: there was nothing that could come after this. Max had officially run himself to his last plot-point. It had taken him twenty-four years, but he had finally lost everything.

But despite that, life would continue as it had before. There would always be some familiarity to be had in the fact that time was constant and unchanging in how it changed things.

And sitting unemployed, with no home to return to, and soaked up to his shoulders, Max somehow still felt brave enough to watch the sun rise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who read, kudos'd, bookmarked or reviewed! I would not be capable of pouring my heart and soul into this monstrous 10k word chapter without your consistent and lovely support.
> 
> I track the "#The Sparrow Still Sings" tag on tumblr! If you make something cool make sure to tag it so I can see it and praise you forever! Alternatively, you can send something directly to me @max-as-hell on tumblr, or @centrialux on instagram.


	10. Max Ties the Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings for:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Implied Gender Dysphoria  
> -Implied Parental Abuse/Neglect  
> -Implied Alcohol Abuse  
> -Alcohol

Max Ties the Ends

Max awoke to the sound of Stevie Wonder blasting over the camp’s PA system.

He groaned to life, making a sound in the back of his throat akin to a junker’s failing engine as he pried his eyes open. The too-hot morning sun streamed in through the open windows of his cabin and burned his skin.

Feeling like his head was floating inches above his body, Max pushed himself upright in his bunk and stretched out his stiff limbs. The world around him seemed thick and dampened, as if someone had stuffed all of Max’s senses with honey-soaked cotton balls.

And God, everything was so _bright_. Max fought the urge to clamp his eyelids shut again as he surveyed his cabin.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Neil’s snide voice came from across the room. The older man was already dressed in his work attire and was standing in the doorway as if he had just been walking out.

“Morning,” Max rumbled out, his voice low and gravelly with disuse.

“Yes, good morning to you as well,” Neil said. He stepped back into the cabin, inspecting Max with a bored expression. “Now, I’m no practitioner of medicine, but I think you slept long enough to qualify a coma.”

Max took a long, slow breath in as he processed Neil’s words. He blinked hard in an attempt to force away the last of the sleep from his eyes. “How long’s that?” he asked.

“An impressive and honestly frightening twenty-four hours, with some minor interruptions. You got up twice to use the restroom, but I presumed that you were sleep-walking.”

Disbelief washed over Max like a bucket full of ice-water. “Wait, wait, wait- hold the fuck up. I slept for _twenty-four_ hours?”

Max fumbled for the phone under his pillow and stared at the calendar display on the home screen. “Oh, fuck me, dude.”

It was as if the realization had spurred his body into function- because at once, Max felt a sudden, shooting pain in his stomach. A light nausea danced in his head. Max cursed and stumbled out of his bed. His vision went fuzzy as he wobbled to his feet.

“Hey, thanks for waking me up to eat, jackass,” Max snapped, sarcasm dripping from his tongue like venom.

Neil crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on his left leg. “For your information, I did try. You were just really out of it. I figured you needed the sleep.”

Neil bit his lower lip and rubbed his hands together awkwardly as he changed the subject.

“So, David announced yesterday that he was going to take over your counselor position until the end of summer. I take it that this isn’t a coincidence?”

Max knit his brows as he dug out a fresh red zip-up from his drawer. “What the fuck am I supposed to say? I got fired. End of story.”

His gut turned as the memory of David’s disappointed frown surfaced in his mind. Max shoved it back down into his subconscious and shook the heavy feeling that it left hanging in his ribcage.

Neil knelt down next to Max, and the expression on his face made Max sick. It was full of the worst kind of pity- the kind that secretly muttered, _‘I told you so’,_ under its breath.

“Oh, Max. I’m sorry,” Neil murmured. He colored his expression with a hint of solemnity and an overtone of melodramatic concern. “May I ask what happened on your trip? You came back much earlier than you were supposed to- did something happened with Preston?”

Max scoffed as he switched out of his stale clothes. “Oh, so you’re on a first-name basis with him now?”

Neil swallowed hard, and Max swore he could see the sharp remark as it was forced back down the older man’s throat. Neil strained to speak kindly, “I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“Sure, you do,” Max said, narrowing his eyes. He stood up and slid his boots on. “Look, this was a good talk and all, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some fucking breakfast before I starve to death.”

“Are you seriously going to be a dick to me today?” Neil burst out, his voice trembling on the expletive. “This could be our last time seeing one another until _God knows when_ \- and you really want to spend it fighting?”

“I’m not the one fighting,” Max shot back, steady and collected.

Neil balled his fists and locked his jaw. “Really, Max? Can’t you grow up and act like a goddamned adult for once?”

Max blew a puff of air from his nose. He stared at Neil as if his old best friend was instead a stranger who had carelessly shoved into him. “Neil, has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you are? Seriously, dude- chill the fuck out.”

Neil ground his teeth together, but it was clear that he had been disarmed. Max stuck one hand in his pocket and used the other to flip Neil off. “Anything else you want to say, jackass?” Max asked.

“Not at all. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Neil said, his voice low and strained with defeat.

Max planted the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah, you too.”

With that said, Max pushed past him and walked out of their cabin.

There was a smell about the forest on that particular morning- one that Max felt compelled to savor and commit to memory. It was cold, and light, and tasted like dew. Goosebumps crawled up Max’s arms as he walked between the shadows. Birds overhead sang their good mornings and were percussed by the clanging noise of the camp flag’s tassel hitting its pole.

Max had never noticed how much he’d enjoyed the feeling of the morning temperature on his skin before, but as he walked into the air-conditioned mess hall, he was almost sad to leave it.

Max snatched his breakfast from the line and settled down at his table, a full mug of black coffee in one hand, and a plastic bowl of what appeared to be cereal in the other. Despite the biting sting of hunger nagging at his gut, Max managed to pace himself as he ate. He feared that if he ate too fast, his breakfast would only come right back up.

Max frowned as Derby sat down in Neil’s long-vacant seat.

“Morning, kid. Don’t you usually sit with Nikki?” Max asked gruffly, eyeing Derby as the girl poured a half-carton of chocolate milk into her Cheerios.

“Sure do,” Derby nodded. “But Royce told me that you were leavin’ soon, so I wanted to sit next to ya while I still could.”

Max heard Melody shift her attention next to him. “I’m sorry- excuse me? Max is leaving? Counselor, you never told _me_ that,” Melody said, looking up from her sheet music. She narrowed her cloudy gray eyes at Derby. “You’re lying.”

“Am not,” Derby stuck out her tongue. “That’s why David’s supposed to be our counselor now. Ain’t that right, Max?”

Max shrugged. “More or less.” He cracked a jagged, almost playful grin. “What, are you little shits going to miss me or something?”

He didn’t get the snarky response he’d come to expect from his campers. Instead, the kids only glanced amongst themselves in an unsure silence.

Finally, Melody spoke up again. Her words came out at an uneven pace- sometimes speeding up so badly, they tumbled over themselves; and at other times, so slowly, it seemed like her mouth was experiencing connection errors from her brain.

“Why are you leaving? You didn’t tell me- I mean, us- you were leaving.”

Max bit the inside of his cheek. “Well-,”

“It’s because Royce is a big jerk,” Kel finished for him.

Max groaned, “Kel-,”

“What? Just look at him, counselor! He doesn’t even want to sit with us on your last day,” Kel sneered.

Kel pointed across the room, directing Max’s eyes to Royce. The young teenager was husting about the other campers’ tables with a blue piece of construction paper in one hand, and a ballpoint pen in the other.

“He’s getting everyone to sign this stupid goodbye card for you, as if that makes everything better suddenly,” Kel said.

Derby rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up. You’re just actin’ out because he didn’t ask you to sign.”

“He did too,” Kel snapped back. “For your information, I signed it right after you did.”

“Sure, ya did, _Kelly_ ,” Derby jeered. She had a smug grin on her face knowing that the boy’s full name would upset him.

“Shut up-,”

Max snapped his fingers impatiently. _“Both_ of you can shut it. This is my last day at camp, and I’d like it to be a tolerable one. Got it?”

Kel and Derby reluctantly agreed, each grumbling out their final insults before ducking back down to pick at their food.

Max wasn’t sure if he was overthinking it or not, but he thought he saw Kel hunch into his shirt as if he were trying to hide. Kel crossed his arms over his chest and picked at the gauze covering his shoulder. Max frowned, the image of Kel’s river-and-blood-soaked clothes still fresh in his mind.

“Uh, and you,” Max added suddenly, pointing a finger at Derby. “The kid wants to be called Kel. Quit calling him Kelly just because you know it gets under his skin. Now apologize.”

Derby made an obnoxious noise in the back of her throat. “Fine. I’m sorry, I guess. Jeez, Kel. You’re such a baby.”

Kel blinked in surprise, looking up at Max in a split-second glance of confused gratitude before falling back into his usual proud demeanor as if he’d never lost it in the first place. “I know you are, but what am I?”

“Hush up,” Derby said. She turned back to Max, shaking off her annoyance effortlessly. “So, counselor, what are you gonna do when you leave?”

Max took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve got a friend who I’m planning to stay with. Remember Spencer?”

 _S?_ Charlie signed, suddenly interested.

“Yeah, him,” Max confirmed. “I had a talk with him, and he’s going to let me rent out the spare room in his grandparents’ house until I can pin down a lease for a new apartment.”

“That’s awesome!” Derby said, grinning wide. “So, it’s kinda just like a really long sleepover, right?”

“Kind of,” Max said.

 _I miss S,_ Charlie frowned.

Max feigned hurt. “What, am I not doing a fan-freaking-tastic job of translating?”

 _You are_ , Charlie signed with short, bitter movements. _But you’re leaving too. So what’s the point?_

Max winced. “Oh, wow. Ouch.”

And in the interim of conversation, Max stared at his campers, and they all stared right back. For the first time all summer, not one of them was laughing, or bickering with someone else, or distracting themselves with their own interests. All they did was watch Max blankly as if they were expecting to be surprised.

And for the first time, Max came to the conclusion that maybe they wouldn’t be better off without him.

“Hey,” Max said, watching as his campers hung on to the sound of his voice like birds on a swaying wire, “Lighten up, alright? I’m not out of here yet. I’ve still got an entire day left to suffer through in this hellhole.”

There was silence for a moment. And then, suddenly, Kel took a jab at Derby, and Derby shot one right back. Melody rolled her eyes, called them both stubborn idiots, and then went back to penning notes into her music while Charlie stayed tuned in to spectate.

And in the wake of fresh chaos, Max finally felt like the morning was right again.

* * *

 

After breakfast, Max found himself utterly bored and confined to the counselor’s office. Being barred from his duties was certainly easier on his legs, but the cost came as nothing short of soul-crushing. Somehow, Max found that he hated doing _nothing_ even more than he hated doing _something_.

With little else to occupy his time, Max found himself watching soaps on David’s old television set and lazily texting Spencer.

After about a half-hour, his phone’s ringtone blared.

Max was almost absent enough to think that it was Spencer who was calling him. He plucked the phone from his side and almost answered it- but managed to catch himself just as he saw the caller ID display flashing across the screen.

_Calling: Preston Goodplay_

Alarm bells rang like mad in Max’s head, and he spat out a long string of curses before shakily declining the call.

Max felt the blood rushing in his ears as his heart rammed against the fortress of his ribcage. A cold sweat crept up behind his neck.

Max stared at his phone’s notification screen.

_Missed Call: Preston Goodplay_

Even the sight of Preston’s name was making him feel sick. Max felt like a coward ignoring Preston’s call, but in truth, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle himself if he had to hear Preston tell him that he’d moved on.

Max wasn’t ready to take that pain- at least, not yet.

His phone rang again.

Max felt his throat dry up as he cancelled the call once more before shutting his phone down completely. An odd sense of guilty hopelessness settled like a stone in his gut.

Desperate to rid himself of the feeling, Max leaned into the television and cranked up the volume on his soap opera.

The lunch bell rang somewhere between a cheating scandal and a hospital scene.

The sound of David’s boots marching up to the door pulled Max’s eyes from the television set. “Max, are you coming to join us for lunch?” David asked, peeking into the counselor’s office.

Max turned back to his scheduled programming. “Don’t count on it, Davey.” He pointed to the screen. “Things are just getting good here. Carla’s dickhead ex just got into a huge car crash, and now she and his _current_ girlfriend are going to the hospital to see him. But the catch is that neither of them knows that the other one will be there.”

“I wouldn’t’ve imagined that you liked these kinds of shows,” David said.

“Oh, they’re melodramatic as fuck. But they make me feel better about my own train-wreck existence, so there’s that.”

David awkwardly tapped his fingers against the door’s plastic frame. “Right, of course. Are you sure you don’t want to come to lunch?”

“Positive.”

David sighed, “Of course. It’s your vacation, and you can spend it as you wish.”

“Oh, I will.”

David waited at the doorway for one last passing moment before finally giving up and backing away. Max listened as the sound of his footsteps receded into the grass.

As soon as Max was sure that David had left, he stood up. He turned the volume on the television up a few notches, then slipped out of the counselor’s office and jogged to the supply shed. His stomach bit at him, clearly unsatisfied with his meager breakfast, but there were far more important things to worry about.

Because for the next hour, David, Nikki, Neil, and the Quartermaster would all be busy carrying out their duties in the mess hall- meaning that Max would have one last shot at getting his hands dirty.

Max looked over his shoulder as he eased himself past the storage barn doors. An odd hush followed his footsteps as determined eyes scanned the hooks lining the barn walls for his toolbelt. He furrowed his brow when he found the space empty.

“Lookin’ for this?” the Quartermaster asked, seemingly materializing out of thin air.

Max only barely managed to bottle up his throat before he lost his dignity completely. “Christ, was that seriously fucking necessary?”

The Quartermaster shrugged, hanging Max’s toolbelt back on its hook. “Nope.”

Max clutched at his chest and slowly remembered how to breathe. “Fuck, QM. Aren’t you supposed to be serving lunch right now?”

“Nope. Red Knees said you were told not to go to the supply barn and tasked me with makin’ sure you followed up on that.”

“Shit,” Max groaned. Out of exasperation, he laughed. “David really thinks of fucking everything, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed, he does,” the Quartermaster agreed sagely.

The old man eyed Max for a moment before suddenly nodding in approval, as if he had been appraising the young counselor’s monetary worth.

“Boy, I’ve got a fine bottle of Lagavulin down in my shack,” he said.

“Scotch?” Max shifted uncomfortably. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

“I know you don’t. I do. Follow me.”

With that, the Quartermaster walked out of the storage shed. At a complete loss, but with nothing else to do, Max reluctantly plodded after him. He felt like a horse approaching the muzzle of a shotgun.

The Quartermaster, like the counselors, lived on-site at Camp Campbell. But instead of a cabin, he slept out in a shack a few meters into the woods. The shack was tucked away into a shallow divot of the forest where the trail was so overgrown, it was nearly impossible to find unless one had been deliberately looking for it.

Max felt like the idiot teenager in a horror movie as he followed the Quartermaster deeper and deeper into the underbrush. He could almost hear the moviegoers screaming at him to turn around.

The shack was a small, rickety thing that clearly hadn’t received the benefit of David’s camp refurbishments. It had one circular window about the size of a basketball right below the peak of its shingled roof. Moss scaled the sides, painting the damp wood a deep green.

A little circular firepit sat a few yards away, equipped with a jerry can half-full of gasoline, a decent stack of firewood, and an old shopping cart turned on its side, which Max could only assume was supposed to be a makeshift grill.

“Wait here,” the Quartermaster ordered.

“Sure thing.”

The Quartermaster disappeared into his cabin for a moment and returned with two tacky beach chairs hanging on one arm, and a decently expensive bottle of scotch in the other. Max took his chair awkwardly, unfolding the rusty metal frame and propping it next to the firepit.

“So, uh- nice place you got,” Max hummed.

“Yep,” the Quartermaster replied.

He opened up his chair and set it next to Max’s, plopping down in the canvas seat and uncapping his bottle. He tipped it back and drank it straight, unfazed as the hard liquor went down his throat.

Max was too busy feeling uncomfortable to think about how the alcohol made him tense.

The Quartermaster made a sound in his throat as if he were trying to dislodge something from it. “You used to be a real problem-child. I recall when you were a camper, David had me fixin’ something or another every week.”

Max winced. Normally, that sort of knowledge wouldn’t’ve fazed him, but after being responsible for fixing things around the camp himself, he could understand the potential annoyance a groundskeeper might have towards his young, inconsiderate self. “Right, yeah. Sorry about that.”

The Quartermaster dismissed Max’s apology with a wave. “Seeing you and your little friends again sure is a wonder. You changed.”

“They changed,” Max corrected. “I haven’t. Not really.”

The Quartermaster chuckled dryly. “You sure like to think that, huh?”

“Look,” Max explained, “Neil and Nikki- they both did something great with their lives. Nikki’s a professional athlete, and Neil’s got a dual-diploma. All I’ve got is a ‘termination of employment’ slip from my second fucking entry-level job.”

“Status don’t make you grown. The Jew and the girl might’ve got some fancy new titles, but I’ll tell you right now that they ain’t changed none since they were yea-high. You, on the other hand- you were a hellion. Didn’t care about nothin’ or nobody if it didn’t serve you. But nowadays, I see you runnin’ around and playin’ therapist to everyone else who can’t get their own heads on straight. Hell, you’re even doin’ it for David now.”

Max laughed, and it almost sounded resentful. “I don’t do shit for David.”

“Then tell me- what were you doin’ hangin’ by that storage shed on your day off?”

“Does it matter?”

There was a sparkle in the Quartermaster’s eye that almost looked like pride. “I see that little project you’ve got goin’. It’s a real piece of work. Spacing’s off, though.”

“Oh, fuck you, old man,” Max sneered.

The Quartermaster laughed- genuinely laughed- and Max swore that he had never heard anything quite so strange in his life. “Still got some fight in you, huh? Well, that’s fine.”

The Quartermaster took a sip of his scotch and made a soft ‘ah’ sound. Max could hear the birds above him as they gossiped among themselves. If he looked up, he could see them flitting back and forth between the trees.

After a silence, the Quartermaster spoke up again. “You weren’t ever cut out to be a counselor.”

Max blew air from his nose. “Yeah. I know.”

He stared at his hands, which looked far too calloused and large to ever be gentle.

“You upset thinkin’ that you failed David?”

“What? Why would I-,”

“-Care ‘bout what David thinks?” the Quartermaster finished. “Don’t know. That’s your demon to expunge, boy.”

Max squeezed his palms together and stared at the dirt beneath his shoes. He wondered if David knew that he had tried. He had been careless, and apathetic, and cruel at times to his campers- but beyond all of that, he had tried. And in spite of trying, here he was still: freshly unemployed, and with quicksand as the only solid foundation beneath him.

And then Max thought of Royce, and about how he knew that Royce would be okay for now. And suddenly, he knew that he wouldn’t regret it.

Max heard the echoing ring of the PA as it signaled the end of lunch and the beginning of the afternoon activities. Max stood up, folded his chair back up, and set it against the shack. He stuffed his hands awkwardly into his pockets and turned back towards the Quartermaster.

“Hey, uh- thanks for the talk. I needed it,” he said.

“My pleasure,” the Quartermaster replied, grinning beneath his mustache.

He rose from his seat and pulled a small metal flask from his vest, filling it with his scotch. The Quartermaster screwed the lid back on and tucked it back into his shirt. He swished the remaining scotch around the bottle thoughtfully.

“Here, boy,” he said after some deliberation. “Take this as a parting gift. When you empty it- that is the day you become a man.”

“You’re a fucking trip,” Max grumbled, though gingerly accepting the quarter-full bottle.

By some magic, the Lagavulin didn’t feel like dynamite in his hands like the fireball whiskey had. Max idly remembered how his father used to walk around the house, carrying his bottles by the neck.

Max tucked the scotch under his arm as if he were holding a football as he thanked the Quartermaster one last time and headed back to camp. He made his way to the empty counselor cabins and stepped inside. Max packed up his suitcases to leave, stuffing the bottle of scotch between two layers of dirty clothes.

And then, with his bunk stripped, and with the reality of his future yet to truly sink in, he felt light enough to leave his cabin again and walk out into the afternoon sun.

Max wandered around the camp aimlessly for a short while. The thought of wasting himself away with the soap operas in the counselor’s office made him feel nauseous, so instead, Max decided to head down to the activities field.

There, Nikki was standing on the sidelines of a scrimmage game of flag-football. Her girls practiced cheerleading routines on the sidelines as the boys tossed the ball back and forth.

Max watched as Nikki blew the whistle around her neck and pulled a yellow card out of her pocket.

“For the last time, Chandler, this game is _no-contact!”_ Nikki snapped. “Ten-yard penalty!”

The boy Max assumed to be Chandler jeered and cursed at Nikki before barking at his team to back up and reset the play.

“Fun group you’ve got,” Max snickered, walking up to stand besides her.

“They’re learning to talk back to the ref. I’ve never been so proud,” Nikki replied, her voice genuine behind the humor.

The two counselors said nothing for a long time after that. Max watched with a dull interest as Chandler’s team suffered two more downs and a fast interception.

Eventually, the silence became overwhelming. Nikki called a time-out between plays to pass off her whistles and penalty cards to one of her boys. When Max looked at her, she only crossed her arms, shrugged, and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

Max agreed, following her as she walked along the perimeter of the football game.

Nikki cleared her throat. “So, you’re really leaving, huh? You better not be planning to disappear off the face of the earth again.”

Max offered a short, self-satisfied laugh. “I might. Haven’t really thought about it. Starting out fresh does sound pretty sweet, though.”

Nikki frowned, “I don’t think you get it, Max. I won’t _let_ you disappear again.”

She looked up at Max and stared at him with a gaze so brutally intense, he was taken off-balance. He wondered if it were possible to win a rugby game with your eyes alone, and furthermore- if Nikki had ever accomplished such a feat.

Nikki continued her rant. “Look, jerk. It took Neil and I nearly an entire decade and a crap-ton of luck to find you this time. You are _not_ putting us through that again. Do you understand me?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Max rolled his eyes. “You guys did _more_ than fine without me dragging you down.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Nikki scoffed. “I mean, come on, Max! Have you _seen_ Neil? The guy’s a wreck! And me-,” she paused to slow down, “-well, you know all about me. You never dragged us down, Max. You kept us steady. You were our anchor.”

Nikki smiled with all the bitter sadness that could be harbored in the empty chest of an abandoned friend and looked up at Max with a lost quality to her eyes- as if she were focusing on the task of mentally photoshopping him into a memory that he hadn’t been present for.

She turned away to watch the game. Max had to lean in to hear her as she spoke against the wind. “You know, Max, every victory I’ve ever won- I’ve always wanted you to be with there to win it with me. All of my rugby tournaments, my college finals, Leanne, Emily- all of it. I mean, Neil’s super great- really. But he’s always so busy with his own life, and-,”

“I don’t think you should marry Leanne,” Max blurted suddenly. “I mean, at least not right now. I think you need to postpone the wedding.”

Nikki looked thrown. “W-wait, what? What does my wedding have to do with anything?”

Max took a deep, shaky breath. He spoke gruffly, burying his sentiments deep beneath the dirt and gravel of a feigned annoyance. “Look, if you really want me back in your fucking life, you should know that I’m not going to be in it quietly.”

“S-seriously? You want to- no, wait, I mean- Max, we can’t just _cancel-,”_

“Why the hell can’t you?”

“Well, for one, we’ve been planning this thing for like, a year now. We sent out invites and everything! A-and I’m totally ready to be with Leanne for the rest of my life, so why wait?”

“And what about Emily? Are you ready for her?”

At the sound of her step-daughter’s name, Nikki fell silent. She bit her lip.

“Well, Nik?” Max pressed. “Are you?”

“I am,” Nikki said, though she sounded more unsure than Max had ever heard her.

“Nikki, stop. Look at me.” Max stopped walking and crossed his arms over his chest incredulously. In the far distance, he could just barely make out some of the boys cheering on a touchdown. “Now tell me the truth. Are you ready for Emily?”

Nikki squeezed her eyes shut as if she were trying to blink back some weakness, then opened them again. When she looked back up at Max, her eyes were bleary.

“I don’t know,” Nikki finally admitted. “I really don’t.”

She finally broke eye-contact to laugh miserably. “You know, that’s why I came to Camp Campbell. So that I could learn how to be ready for her. And here I am- just feeling bad for myself. God, I’m such a loser.”

And Nikki looked like him in that moment. With creases between her eyebrows, and a pained grimace on her face, and eyes too tired to ever belong to someone so young. She locked her jaw like him, and clenched her fists like him, and took in her shuddering breaths like him. And like him, she buckled with the weight of a responsibility too heavy for her inexperienced shoulders.

There were no words on earth with purpose worthy enough to be uttered in that instant. And so, hoping that sincerity could be felt in the skin, Max did the only thing he knew how to do: he reached out, and grabbed Nikki’s hand tightly with his own.

Nikki looked shocked for a moment, but then quickly fell into the needed contact. She locked her fingers with Max’s tightly, as if he were a balloon that would float away should her grip fall too loose.

Hand-in-hand, they walked back to where they came from. Nikki felt the need to swing their liked arms a bit as they walked, and Max didn’t question it.

It was then that they heard Derby calling to them.

“Counselors!”

Max immediately pulled his hand away from Nikki’s and put it in his pocket. Nikki laughed at the flustered reaction, poking at her old friend playfully as she waited for Derby to jog over from the mess hall.

The boys stopped in the middle of their game to watch her as she dashed across the field. They glanced around and murmured among themselves before sending their team captains to play a round of rock-paper-scissors.

“Hey, counselor Nikki! Max! Royce ain’t doing anything because he doesn’t have a camp assignment, so David said that I could come and play with ya!”

Nikki smiled, and the ease of her expression made Max nearly sigh in relief.

“Sure thing,” Nikki grinned. “Boys! Elisa’s playing! One of you make room on your team!”

The boy who had won rock-paper-scissors waved Derby over and passed her a yellow penny-jersey. Derby caught it, tossing it on and immediately taking her position on the defensive line.

A thought came to Max as he smirked and nudged Nikki’s shoulder with his own. “You call her Elisa?”

Nikki cocked her head. “You don’t?”

“She won’t let me. She doesn’t let anybody call her that,” Max said.

Nikki was deep in thought for a long time before the realization hit her. In an instant, the confusion and uncertainty in her face vanished. She smiled wide.

And in that moment of effortless happiness, Nikki found the courage to speak.

“So, do you really think that’s the best idea? To postpone the wedding?” Nikki asked.

Ironically, Max smiled back and said, “I do.”

“Then I’ll try to consider it.”

“Good.”

“But first, you have to promise that you’ll stick around this time. Okay?” Nikki said.

“There’s always a fucking catch with you women,” Max huffed, feigning annoyance. His gruff demeanor quickly melted down. “But yeah. I’ll be here for you, Nik. I promise.”

He offered her hand a pulse of reassurance, and to his relief, she squeezed back.

* * *

 

It was another two full games of flag football, and on tournament championship game of HORSE before dinner was called for.

Caught up in the aftershocks of her adrenaline rush, Derby didn’t even think before rushing off to sit at Nikki’s table with the boys.

Max let her go, grabbing a tray at the line and ambling back to his usual spot. He didn’t get to enjoy much of his food, however. He could tell that something was wrong the instant he sat down. Max glanced about the lunch hall, scanning the present campers.

“Hey, where’s Melody?” he demanded.

His two present campers exchanged nervous glances among themselves. After a moment of silent debate, Kel bit his lip and spoke up. “Sir, she uh- she told David that she had to go to the bathroom.”

“So, she’s in the bathroom?” Max asked, cocking a brow.

Kel made a face. “Well, no, sir. She lied. She’s at the theater practicing her cello.”

 _Snitch_ , Charlie remarked.

Max groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jesus fucking Christ. Why can’t you kids ever freaking behave yourselves? Where’s David?”

Kel pointed towards the far end of the mess hall. David sat at one of the empty back tables, in a deep conversation with Royce. “I bet he’s signing that stupid card,” Kel grumbled.

“Cool. If he asks, tell him I’m going for a walk,” Max ordered.

He grabbed a roll from his tray before abandoning it to sneak out of the mess hall.

Outside the mess hall’s container of noise, the world seemed an eerie quiet. In the city, the lack of noise often meant danger. The forest felt no different. Not even the crickets seemed to be chirping as Max walked to the amphitheater. The cool night air sat fat and stagnant around him, as if the entire world were holding its breath.

Max ate as he walked, and it wasn’t long before he heard the soft hum of Melody’s cello permeate the still air. He let the noise carry him as he approached the amphitheater, feeling the deep vibrations from the steel strings of her instrument resonate with the natural frequencies of his own chest.

When Max finally caught sight of Melody, she was sitting in the middle of a dimly lit stage, her music set up in front of her. She was playing the rhythms of a song that Max had heard countless times by now- her own sonata.

It sounded almost finished.

And then a flat note squeaked out between Melody’s fingers. Max winced at the dissonance.

Melody stopped bowing and flipped her music back to the first page, muttering curses under her breath. Max was close enough to the stage to hear each one with clarity.

“Hey, watch your language,” Max said.

Melody whipped around, her eyes wide. “Counselor?”

“Where are you supposed to be?”

Melody forced herself out of her stupor. She tightened up her composure as if she were tuning her highest string and made it a point to steady her breathing. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “My parents-,”

“Yeah, whatever,” Max rolled his eyes. He took a seat on the stage floor just far enough away from her to avoid her bow should she spontaneously decide to whack him with it. “Your parents are never home at a decent time, and you don’t eat dinner until later. We’ve been over this.”

Melody sucked on her lower lip. She turned back to her piece, clenching the frog of her cello bow between her fingers and crudely shadowing a set of notes. “I’ve just got to refine this one part, counselor, I promise.”

“You’ve got the rest of summer to do that,” Max said.

“But _you’re_ leaving tomorrow,” Melody shot back, “And if I can’t play my piece for you by then, you’ll never hear it.”

“I’ve been listening to it all summer. Trust me, I’ve heard it. Come on, pack this up and we’ll go to dinner.” Max’s tone was just a bit too sharp to be comforting, and all of that was reflected in the distrust plaguing Melody’s eyes.

Melody didn’t move from her seat. She scrunched up her face and stared at her feet miserably. Hunched over, her delicate frame looked like one of Preston’s failed scripts: rejected, crumpled, and paper-thin.

Max caught the hiccup as it shook her. “Oh, God, don’t start crying,” Max groaned. “Look, just because you can’t get your way-,”

“Shut up!” Melody snapped, her voice cracking.

Max scowled, feeling a twitch in his agitation. “Hey, you don’t talk to me like that. Do you understand me?”

Hearing his own voice, Max thought he sounded far too much like his father. He had personally heard that line about a thousand times when he himself had been a snappy adolescent. But unlike his dad, Max was confident in his own ability to control his temper.

Melody’s breath caught in her throat. She was blinking tears back stubbornly, averting her eyes from Max’s. Her jaw was locked in place.

“I want to play,” Melody demanded. “I don’t know why you’re being so stupid about this. You let Royce get away with whatever _he_ wants.”

“No, I don’t-,”

“Yes, you do!” Melody retorted. “Royce never gets in trouble- not when he almost killed Kel, or when he talks back all the time, or- or even when he stole your medicine!”

Max forced himself to ignore the new feeling of displacement nagging at his gut as he took a deep breath to resolve himself.

“It’s… It’s complicated, Melody.”

“ _Sure_ , it is.”

Max bit back his next comment. From his years of personal experience in screaming matches, he knew that continuing this back-and-forth volley would only end up in something hurtful being said. So, he held himself back and reminded himself that he was talking to an eleven-year old.

“Melody, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, counselor.”

“Quit lying. Something’s bothering you,” Max pressed.

Melody wiped at her eyes before reluctantly turning to face Max. Her face was blotchy and red. “Do you care about Royce more than me?”

Max was struck by the question. He furrowed his brow, collecting himself enough to shake his head and answer honestly. “No. Why the hell would you think…?”

Melody looked Max up and down with a wary pause. She pursed her lips together like a coy adult, setting her bow down on the shelf of her music stand. She absently tapped out some off-beat rhythms on the body of her instrument.

“You know that I have an older brother, right? His name is Lyric,” Melody said, talking as if her brain were quality-checking every single word that left her mouth. “He’s nineteen, and he’s a pianist. And he’s really smart, and funny, and nice, and-,” Melody choked on her own careful words. “-and Mom and Dad like him way more than they like me.”

Melody had an airy quality to her tone. She sat upright, with perfect concert posture. Max could see that she wore the burden of a child that had always been expected to speak and act like a miniature adult.

Max struggled to speak. “Are… are you sure?” he asked dumbly.

Melody inhaled stiffly through her nose. “I do, actually. And I can prove it, too. Because the only reason I’m at this stupid camp is because my brother’s touring Europe, and Mom and Dad needed to put me somewhere so that they could go with him without having to deal with me.”

“Oh, hell, kid…” Max trailed off.

Melody looked as if she were ready to cry again, but she managed to grit her teeth and hold back. “I guess it’s not really your problem. I’m sorry, counselor. I didn’t mean to act so immature.”

Her apology felt like rocks in Max’s gut. For her sake alone, he tried his best to speak gently. “It’s okay, kid.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Max said. He paused for a moment- allowing a full beat of rest to anticipate the downbeat of his next sentence. “And if it means anything to you, I know how it feels. My parents never wanted to deal with me either. In fact, they used to stick me here each and every summer when I was about your age just to get rid of me for three months. I know it sucks. I’m sorry that you have to deal with it.”

Melody stared at Max for a long time, and it seemed as if she were hardly breathing. Then, slowly, she stood up. She set her cello down sideways on the stage, and stared at the floorboards beneath her as she closed the distance between herself and Max. Her face looked stony and firm, and far too old for her age.

And then, in the single instant following, she collapsed.

Every mature blockade that Melody had ever constructed about herself crumpled as she wrapped her skinny arms around Max’s neck and hugged him tightly. Max froze for a second, but pushed his discomfort aside and tried his best to hold the falling pieces of her together.

And for what felt like an eternity, Max just held on to her. He listened to her stuttered breathing, and felt the tremors wracking her chest. Around him, it seemed as if the world had finally exhaled. The trees rustled lowly in the new, cool wind; the insects chittered and sang; and the lake hitting the shore made a fine metronome for it all.

And then, like that, it was over. Melody backed away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

Melody composed herself again, but this time, she did so without the adultlike stoicism that she had previously possessed. She folded her arms over her chest and looked away.

“They’re really nice parents,” she managed to say. “They tell me all the time how good I am, and how proud they are of me. But deep down, I think they just tell me all of that junk so that I’ll leave them alone. And now any compliments I get just sound so fake. They make me sick.”

“Not all the time though, right?” Max asked, cracking a light smile.

Melody looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem to hate it when Kel says nice stuff about your music.”

“Oh my God, _shut up_. That’s totally different.”

Melody laughed in the aftershocks of her cry, and it sounded a little like a strange hiccup. Max couldn’t tell for sure beneath the red blotchiness of her face, but he could swear that she blushed.

“How about this? Take your time on your music or whatever, and when you’re ready, you can have David record it on his phone and send it to me,” Max suggested.

“Recorded music never sounds good,” Melody huffed.

“Fuck, you are one pretentious little kid,” Max rolled his eyes playfully. “Now come on- we should seriously get back to the mess hall before David skins me.”

It took a moment, but finally, Melody relented. “Okay. Let me put back my cello.”

Max thanked her and waited patiently as she folded up her music and picked up her oversized instrument. She had to lean backwards to keep her balance as she carried them both backstage.

It hit Max at that moment that he would really be gone the next morning. A sudden sadness sunk in him, and though it felt foreign to mourn the end of a job he hadn’t even truly wanted in the first place, he could do nothing else.

Thankfully, Melody returned from backstage before Max could think too deeply into it. As they walked back to the mess hall, she rattled off idly about the baroque era and about Antonio Vivaldi.

By the time they walked into the mess hall, almost all of the campers had already finished eating, and were preparing to march back outside and turn in for the night. From across the room, David’s eyes zeroed in on Max’s like a laser tracking system that had found its target.

“Neil,” David called, not shifting his gaze even slightly. “Could you stick here until the last campers are finished eating?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

With that, David stood and made his way to Max. His expression looked colder than stone. “I’d like to see you in my office, Maxwell.”

Max swallowed hard, agreeing wordlessly with a curt nod.

“Counselor, are you in trouble?” Melody asked, her eyes moving between the two men.

“I’ll be fine, Melody. Get something to eat,” Max said.

He watched as she inched to the line to get a tray.

“Let’s go,” David coaxed.

Max complied, slipping out of the mess hall like a beaten dog. He followed David to the counselor’s office in silence.

David took the chair by his desk, and Max sat across from him.

“Are you all packed and ready to leave?”

“All set,” Max said.

“Wonderful. However, there is a something that I feel we should address.”

Max felt his stomach turn. “What could I possibly fucking-,”

“Hey, language,” David interrupted. “I called you in here because… I think you deserve a second chance.”

“Wait, what?”

David smiled, breaking out of his cold act as he reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a piece of blue construction paper. Max recognized it instantly- it was the farewell card that Royce had been frantically running around to get signatures for.

“Would you like to see something truly amazing?” David asked. He passed the paper to Max.

Max’s heart stopped beating for a solid second. Because instead of any sentiment of goodbye, the paper’s header actually read:

_PETITION TO RE-HIRE MAX AS AN EMPLOYEE OF CAMP CAMPBELL_

And under those words, Max saw about thirty or so names- signed by Nikki, Neil, and every one of their campers. Max had to laugh- he could even recognize the unreadable scribbles made by the dyslexic boy in Neil’s group.

And then his eyes fell to the five names that he’d become more than well-acquainted with over the summer: _Charlie, Derby, Melody, Kel, Royce._

Max ran a disbelieving hand through his hair. “Wow, David. This is… this is really fucking something.”

He almost laughed. The thought was sentimental enough to make Max dizzy, but in spite of that, the only thing he could even think of doing with the petition right then was to frame it and hang it up somewhere.

David took the paper back and set it behind him on his desk. He folded his hands together and put a grin on his face. There was a knowing glint in his eyes. “I’m not completely oblivious, you know. I knew what Royce was up to this entire summer.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “And you didn’t do anything about it?”

“It wasn’t my job to prove to Royce that you were worthy of his respect,” David said. “In fact, Max, I think I remember a time back when I was in your place- there was a particularly troublesome camper I had who took quite a long time for me to gain the trust of.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Camp Man.”

David laughed a bit. It was the easy kind of laugh- the kind that was far to lighthearted to ever hide anything cruel behind. “Anyways, Royce came out to me with the truth. He told me all about how you took most of the blame during the river mishap so that he wouldn’t be sent home.”

Max felt like an ice cube had just been dropped down the back of his shirt. “Woah, wait- David, you’re not thinking of sending him home, are you?”

“I considered it,” David admitted. “And I’m so ashamed of myself for that. Royce’s home situation… well, for lack of a better term, it’s _rough._ He comes to Camp Campbell each year as a way to escape it all. I’m sure you can sympathize.”

Max almost laughed at the understatement.

“In any case, I have officially decided not to send Royce home. However, I will be searching for an alternative punishment for him. And in regards to your employment here… well, I’m sure you probably already know that I can’t re-hire you as a counselor. Whatever Royce did to get you in trouble- you still came to camp intoxicated, and I can’t be lenient on that.”

Max felt the hopeful air in his chest deflate. “I- yeah, I knew that.”

“Right. And I suppose you also know that there are some other positions here at Camp Campbell that are in desperate need of someone fresh. I believe I mentioned a while ago that our dear Quartermaster was retiring after this summer, yes?”

Max tilted his head. “You what?”

David nodded. “I’d really like it if the person who took over his position had some experience with his responsibilities. You’ve been working under our Quartermaster for quite a bit during this summer, so I’d say that you’re more than qualified. Would you want the job if I offered it to you?”

The realization hit Max like a freight train. In an instant, he broke out into a toothy, astonished smile. “Oh, you son of a _bitch!”_

“Max!”

“You set me up!”

David held his hands up defensively. “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. Rather, I simply prepared another chance for you in case something happened. Believe me, Max, I wouldn’t have offered it to you if I didn’t think that you deserved it.”

“Jesus Christ, David,” Max said, pressing his palm to his forehead as he processed what had just happened.

David cleared his throat. “You still have yet to answer me. Is that a yes or a no?”

Max leaned back in his chair, letting the rush of adrenaline and relief flow through him. “Yes,” he said without a beat of hesitation. “Fuck, yes. David, you’re amazing. _Thank you_. Oh my fucking god.”

David grinned. He plucked Royce’s petition back out from behind him and found an empty spot near the bottom. He pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket and pressed it to the paper. “I figured you’d say that,” David said.

And with that, David signed his name.

* * *

 

Max sat upright in his cabin bunk and stared at the wall- still reeling over the second chance that he had been given. After David’s symbolic gesture, they had gotten to filling out the actual paperwork surrounding Max’s re-hire.

He’d still be earning about the same amount for the rest of the summer as the Quartermaster’s apprentice, but as soon as he took over the following season, David promised that he’d have a full-time, yearly salary.

Max stared at the construction paper petition, feeling the rough cardstock through his fingers. He’d already unpacked again- he’d settled his clothes back into his footlocker, and he’d tucked his suitcase back into the corner of the room.

And suddenly, the sprawling and terrifying infinity that he had been previously faced with seemed much shorter.

It struck Max then that Spencer would still be expecting him in the morning.

Max folded the petition up and tucked it beneath his pillow before pulling out his phone and turning he device back on.

Instantly, his cellphone buzzed to life with a flash-flood of notifications from text messages and missed calls. They were all from the same sender. Max felt his breath catch as he read through them.

 **Preston, 10:02 PM:** max we nebe to taik

_Max, we need to talk._

**Preston, 3:04 PM:** olese cal

_Please call._

**Preston, 3:23 PM:** i bbnt now cal me dack

_I didn’t know. Call me back._

**Preston, 5:29 PM:** max, plaese, im so sorrey. I neeb to tallk to yuo. please.

_Max, please, I’m so sorry. I need to talk to you. Please._

There were twenty-seven in total, each more desperate and incomprehensible than the last. Max felt his spit solidify in his dry throat as he read the last of the texts that Preston had sent- a single message that had been received not more than thirty minutes ago.

 **Preston, 8:13 PM:** in conning to geh you.

_I’m coming to get you._

Max forced himself to steady his breathing as the world whipped around him like one of those spinning teacup rides they set up at carnivals. He thought that he’d feel some sick sense of satisfaction when Preston crawled back. But it seemed as if that emotional luxury had evaded him.

Instead, he was pissed.

Pissed that Preston had waited until being found out to text finally text him. Pissed that he had gotten his heart broken, and pissed that Preston still had the fucking nerve to want to fix it. But mostly, he was pissed at himself for still feeling that horrible rush of hope in knowing that Preston was finally willing to talk to him again.

Amidst all the chaos in his head, in a brief moment of clarity, Max pulled up Preston’s contact. He tapped the message button, and let his brain work on autopilot as he sent out one last text:

 **Max, 8:40 PM:** busy. dont text back.

And then, with shaking thumbs, he deleted Preston’s contact information and blocked his number.

And after that, he didn’t feel so horrible anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT, 5/12/2018: Hi! So when I originally published this chapter, I wasn't doing so great and wanted moreso to just crank something out rather than obsess and burn out over it. I had a moment to get better, and I fixed up a lot of this chapter's content. Thank you for putting up with me, and if you read this chapter twice? You're amazing.
> 
> Wow! I don't think this chapter's anywhere near my favorite, and I know it's got more hurt/comfort packed in than a Hallmark Movie Marathon, but I was happy to write it because I got to tie up a lot of loose plots that ran all the way back from chapter 2. My favorite thing about writing longer stories is being able to put in a lot of parallels and foreshadowings, and I think this chapter is a great example for the latter. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, Kudos'd, Bookmark'd, or reviewed! The story's long from over, so keep your hats on! 
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> My friend, Spencer, who regularly makes amazing T3S fanart to keep me motivated, and who amazingly cosplayed Royce on Instagram! Also, special thanks to my friend, Erin, and @breaddiscourseblog on tumblr for making some amazing T3S inspired art! I can't believe I have the privilege of knowing so many talented people!
> 
> Spencer's Royce Cosplay: https://www.instagram.com/p/BiXMcN_gWHs/?taken-by=droppincosplay  
> Erin's Tumblr: http://jeebus-crisp.tumblr.com/  
> Breaddiscourseblog's Tumblr: http://breaddiscourseblog.tumblr.com/


	11. "Maxwell"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:   
> -Offensive Language  
> -Explicit Child Abuse  
> -Alcoholism  
> -Minor Violence  
> -Depictions of Anxiety

"Maxwell"

Max had been halfway done with sanding the canoes when he got the call from Nikki.

“Hey,” Max answered, propping his cellphone between his shoulder and ear to talk as he worked.

“Uh, yeah, it’s me: Nikki. I mean, you probably already knew that though. Anyways, are you coming to lunch?” Nikki stammered, falling over her words like a marathon runner with untied shoelaces.

Max glanced down at the half-finished canoe beneath him grimly. Since his re-hire as the camp’s future groundskeeper, the Quartermaster had been insistent upon making sure that Max knew how to do every trivial, backbreaking, and exhausting task he could think of.

Max had never been sorer. He leaned back on his calves and rolled his overworked shoulders gingerly as he talked into the receiver.

“I don’t think so. QM wants all of these fucking canoes done by dinner,” Max said.

“Are you sure you can’t take a _tiny_ break?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Why do you care? I haven’t been at lunch for the past week.”

Nikki was silent on the other end for just long enough to give Max a shiver of anxiety. He thought he heard Neil’s voice garble something out amongst the fuzzy background static.

“I think,” Nikki squeaked out, “You should see this for yourself.”

“Nikki, what the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You’ll find out, I swear. I’m sorry, Max; I just really think you need to see this with your own eyes first. I’m going to hang up now, so I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Nikki wait-,”

Nikki cut the line before Max could even begin to protest. Max stared at his phone in disbelief for a moment before relenting- stuffing the old device into his pocket with a groan.

Max took a sideways glance at his half-finished handywork and sighed, tossing his rag, polish, and sanding board into the canoe’s hull. He stood up, patted the dust from his jeans, and made his way to the mess hall.

The mess hall was always at its loudest during lunchtime- the buzz from the morning activities tended to mix with the anticipation for the afternoon ones, and every camper always seemed to have something to talk about. But somehow, it seemed even louder than usual as Max walked in. Max greeted his old campers with a short nod before immediately zeroing in on Nikki’s table.

Nikki was talking to Neil with their heads low, a concern drawing their lips into thin lines. She caught Max’s gaze and smiled meekly to acknowledge it.

“Nikki, what-,”

“Max! Now isn’t this such a coincidence? I was _just_ about to send someone to go get you!” David interrupted cheerfully, jogging up to Max. “I’m sure you’d be interested in meeting our new guest!”

David motioned behind him. Max turned to look, and what he saw made him feel as if he’d been slammed into by a ten-hundred-ton freight train.

“Preston?” Max felt as if both of his ears had been simultaneously popped. Suddenly, the roar of chatter inside the mess hall was little more than a dull static to him.

“That’s right! Would you like to come sit with us?”

Max had to consciously force himself to breathe. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just give me a sec.”

“Alrighty!”

While David returned back to his table with Preston, Max stormed over to Nikki and grabbed her shoulder hard enough to make her yelp.

“Hey, Nik, do you maybe want to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on here?”

Nikki stretched a pained smile over her face and help up her hands defensively. “Uh, surprise?”

“You fucking knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Hey, hold on there,” Neil cut in. He gently nudged Max’s hands from Nikki’s body and moved to inject himself between them. “Neither of us knew until just now, Max. There’s no need for you to get pissy. Let’s just all relax now, okay?”

“Seriously, fuck you,” Max snapped. He turned back to glare at Nikki. “And thanks a whole-fucking-lot, Nik.”

Max shoved past the two counselors and made his way to the back table, feeling like Caesar with a knife sticking out of his back the entire way there. He sat down at the table and drummed his fingers against the hard wood awkwardly.

Preston was wearing a bright blue tunic; the one that Max had sewn up for him two years ago when he’d played as MacDuff in his theater’s performance of Macbeth. Max didn’t notice much else besides that, however- he was taking great care in averting his eyes. He looked right past Preston as if the man were made of glass.

“So,” Max cleared his throat. “I didn’t know we were getting guests.”

“It’s so fun, isn’t it?” David grinned, seeming ten years younger with his smile. “Preston here contacted me a few days ago and told me that he wanted to come back to camp to host an acting workshop for the campers. Of course, I had to let him.”

“Interesting,” Max said.

“Maxwell, it’s nice to see you again,” Preston said, an unusual timidity set in his voice.

Max stiffened his jaw, furious eyes flickering up to make out the face of his old roommate. He had always pictured this moment as a happy one- seeing Preston again was something he’d been thinking about since their first day apart. But the moment had been long spoiled- and all Max could feel now was a bitter, disgusting resentment.

Max felt his throat closing up as he tried to speak. “Yeah, okay. No- I can’t do this. David, if you need me, I’m going to finish working on the canoes.”

“Max-,” Preston reached forward in a desperate attempt to grab Max’s arm, but Max had already stood up and turned around.

Max shoved his hands in his pockets and refused to look back. Even imagining the heartbroken look that Preston might have been wearing was enough to whittle at Max’s resolve, and so he emptied his mind of everything. Max felt his chest tighten as he walked out of the mess hall.

He heard Nikki whisper “Oh, crap,” behind him as she got up to follow him out the door, but he couldn’t care more.

Max was pissed.

And it was a thought painful enough to make him sick that plagued his mind like a disease: that even after everything Preston had put him through over the past summer, he still had a heart enough to feel _sorry_ for the man.

Max didn’t try to evade Nikki as she jogged to catch up to him. The fight in him had fizzled down to a bleak, fading ember, and it was taking all of his energy to keep one foot moving in front of the other.

“Max, are you okay?” Nikki asked.

Max shrugged and said nothing. He couldn’t force out the words if he tried.

“Max, come on, I’m being serious.”

Max took in a long breath, the kind that chain-smokers make while taking the first drag of their cigarette.

 “Max, you need to talk to me here.” Nikki pressed.

She set her hand on Max’s arm, and he ripped it away from her. “Why?” he sneered, “What, are you going to rattle off some empty sympathetic bullshit that’s supposed to make me feel better? Hard fucking pass.”

Nikki growled, running an exasperated hand through her bangs. “I can’t believe you. You get all upset when Neil and I don’t tell you every little thing about our personal lives, but as soon as I even _try_ to ask if you’re okay, you just _shut down_ on me!”

Max felt the harsh words nip at his skin but snapped back despite the sting. “I’m fucking peached, Nikki! Is that what you wanted?”

“No, I-,”

“Then I don’t know what the _fuck_ I should tell you!”

Max hadn’t realized just how loud he’d been screaming until he realized that Nikki had been shrinking away from him. His chest was heaving with effort, and his heart was staging a revolt in his chest. His fists were balled with violent intent, and his face was inches from hers.

He knew in that moment of clarity exactly who he must’ve looked like, and instantly pulled himself back. “I-,” he stammered over the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Nikki didn’t return to Max’s side- instead, she warily followed a few feet away from him. The nervous way she watched him- it hurt Max more than any words could have.

“I just want you to be honest with me,” Nikki said, and though her voice had fallen soft, Max could still hear the firmness in her tone. “God, Max, it’s like- I don’t even know anything about you. I mean, yeah, Neil told me that something happened between you and Preston, but even _he_ doesn’t know what’s going on. Like, you never tell either of us _anything._ Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, Nik, I swear-,”

“Then why can’t you act like it?”

Max couldn’t speak- there was not a single, honest, intelligent word that could save him. So, instead, he sat down on the artificial sand next to the lake and studied the still water as it reflected the afternoon sunlight.

“I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me,” Nikki said, maintaining a solid foot of distance from Max as she sat down next to him.

“I can’t-, Nik, I’m just-,” Max stuttered. He forced himself to stop and regain his traction before he spoke again, “Look, we’re just not on the best terms, alright? That’s it. I’m sorry I lost it like that.”

“You worry me sometimes,” Nikki sighed.

“It’s your fault if you care,” Max shot back.

“Maybe it is,” she shrugged. Nikki glanced up at Max with her big, bright eyes. A sad smile tugged at her lips, but it was too weak to pull up anything worth the effort. “Y’know, sometimes I feel like you’re the same person that you’ve always been. But other times, it’s like you’re a complete stranger to me. I mean, I know that’s totally normal since we haven’t seen one another in so long. I just wish I knew what made you change.”

“I’m sorry,” Max said. He had nothing else to say.

He could still remember the last time that he’d seen Nikki before then, which had been nearly a decade ago. He had been fifteen, and she had been a year younger, and they had been hugging goodbye as Max’s father waited impatiently at the camp’s entrance.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Nikki had said, her words muffled slightly as she spoke into the fabric of Max’s hoodie.

Max rolled his eyes as he ran a comforting hand over her back. “Don’t be. Seriously. You can always call me. Plus, you know we’ll both be in this hellhole next summer anyways.”

He hadn’t realized at the time that neither of those promises would last.

“Maxwell!”

Max had winced. His father only called him by his full first name when he was in trouble.

Max had turned to acknowledge his father, a stocky man with a broad chest and cold, slate-gray eyes. Max’s father had pointed to the car. “Finish up.”

Max nodded, pushing down the anxiety that welled in his chest as he hugged Nikki one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he said, pulling away. Then, he shoved his hands into his pockets and retreated into his father’s jet-black Buick, dragging his feet behind him as he walked.

He had watched the camp’s flagpole as they drove off until he couldn’t anymore, dreading the rest of the ride back to his house.

Max had managed to keep steady contact with his friends for two months. But then he’d made the fatal mistake of stumbling into his house at six in the morning on a weekend.

He knew he was in deep shit as soon as he saw his father waiting for him in his room. The man crossed his arms over his chest and drew up his lip into a snarl. “Maxwell, would you like to tell me where the fuck you’ve been?”

“Oh, you noticed I was gone? That’s new,” Max had snapped back, his sixteen-year-old mouth far faster than his rational brain.

“You shut your fucking mouth,” his father growled.

It only took one look into the man’s clear eyes for Max to suddenly realize that his father was sober. Max felt every muscle in his body tense, and reflexively scanned his small room for an out.

Most kids tended not to like their parents drunk- and Max was no exception to that. However, Max had learned by then that a drunk father who couldn’t hit a still target right in front of him was far easier to handle than a sober one with a fist that could catch you no matter how fast you thought you could run.

“I don’t put a roof over your head so that you can sneak out in the middle of the goddamned night with those stoner friends of yours.”

“Better than hanging around an alcoholic asshole,” Max shot back.

Max was smart enough to know that talking back would only make things worse for him, but there had been too much built-up hatred in him to care. For the first time since his mother had left them, his father had been on a strict diet of sobriety. And since then, he’d been trying to impose rules on Max.

But for Max, it was far too late for his father to ever start being a real parent. Being told what he could and could not do by a man who he’d been forced to take care of since he was twelve was reprehensible.

Max caught the swat against his cheek, and stumbled back, cursing.

“You don’t talk to me like that,” Max’s father had sneered.

“Suck my dick,” Max hissed back with equal venom. “This is why mom fucking left you.”

Max had steeled himself for another hit, but it never came. Instead, his father grabbed him by the collar and jabbed a finger into his chest. Max could feel the heat of his father’s breath on his face.

“You know what, Maxwell? You want to be a goddamned smartass? Then get the _fuck_ out of my house. We’ll see how tough you are then.”

Max winced as he was shoved back against the wall. Every survival instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t move. He felt petrified, as if all the joints in his body had been superglued to the spot.

“Dad-,”

“What, do you think I’m kidding? Get the fuck out!” Max’s father had roared. The man took one step forward, and it was as if he had set fire to the shortest fuse on earth.

Max took off like a bottle rocket, racing past his father and out the front door of his house. Adrenaline carried him several blocks away- until he’d finally realized that his father hadn’t come to chase after him.

As soon he could think clearly again, Max came to the terrifying realization that he hadn’t had the chance to take anything with him. He’d been lucky enough to have left with thirty dollars in his pocket and a half-dead cellphone. Exhausted and panicked, he found some breakfast at the local McDonalds, and searched the classifieds on Facebook for a place to stay.

That’s when he had found Preston.

And after setting up their first meeting, Max had decided that there was only one way to prevent his father from finding him again: he deleted his social media accounts, tossed his cellphone in the trash, and spent his last twenty dollars picking up a track-phone and a handful of minutes at the local drugstore.

After that, he didn’t look back. And he didn’t think twice about the people he had left behind without notice.

But now, Nikki was sitting right in front of him- and there was nothing but three feet and eight years to fill the space between them.

Max pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, like he used to do as a kid when he wanted to disappear. “A lot happened,” he confessed simply.

“With Preston?”

“No- well, sort of. More like with my dad,” Max said. He stared at the denim on the knees of his jeans and continued: “And I know that shit happened over a decade ago, and I’m an adult now, and I should be able to fucking handle it- I _should-,”_

“Max,” Nikki sighed, cutting him off gently. Finally, she drew up the courage to scoot closer to him.

“Nikki, save it,” Max snapped. “I don’t want to be some pity-case. And It’s not like it’s my dad’s fault that I fuck up everything I touch. The guy’s probably not even alive anymore- I wouldn’t be surprised if he died of liver cancer or some shit in the past decade. I just see parts of him bleeding through me sometimes and it makes me fucking sick to my stomach.”

“I hope he’s dead,” Nikki said, sounding colder than Max had ever heard her in his life.

Max turned to look at her. The expression on her face could’ve been carved out of stone.

“I’m serious, Max. I hope he’s dead, and I hope he regretted everything he did to you while he was dying.”

In spite of Nikki’s sober expression, Max laughed wearily. “Yeah, that’s what Preston said, too. Christ, that guy saved my goddamned life. I don’t know how far I would’ve made it if he hadn’t agreed to split rent with me. He was the last good thing I had going for me, and I fucked it up. I’m such a piece of shit, Nik.”

“Maybe you are,” Nikki shrugged. She bumped his shoulder with her own and smiled at the ground. “But I love you anyways.”

Max swallowed hard and took in a long, shaky breath. “I know you do. Thank you.”

There was a tug in Max chest, as if some creature of fate had just finished re-tying the once-frayed string that connected Max’s soul to Nikki’s. And it made him think that maybe the concept of soulmates didn’t have to be so idealist. Maybe a soulmate was just someone you could always make your way back to if you ever found yourself lost.

The sound of the PA told Max that lunch had finished, and that afternoon activities had begun. Nikki promised to catch back up with him after dinner and retreated to the activities field to meet her campers. Max wanted nothing more than to desperately follow after her- to never be absent for a single important moment of her life again.

But by some force of will, he managed to stay put. And with nobody left to make him think hard about himself, Max went back to the mundane task of finishing his canoes.

He’d managed to work for an entire five minutes of uninterrupted peace before Royce plopped down next to him.

“Hi.”

“Christ, what are you doing here? I thought Preston was running his acting workshop or whatever?” Max grumbled, pausing his work to read Royce’s expression. Royce wore a polite smile on his face, and for once, looked completely like a happy, normal kid.

He was almost unrecognizable from the hellion who had been trying to undermine Max’s employment the entire summer.

Royce leaned in to inspect the freshly sanded canoe. “Well, I’m supposed to be helping _you_ during my camp time. That’s what you and David decided should be my punishment. Right, counselor?”

“Special occasion. You don’t gotta be here. And I’m not your counselor anymore- you can just call me Max.”

“Sorry. Max,” Royce corrected. “Anyways, I want to take this punishment seriously. I shouldn’t be able to get out of doing work just because we have a guest at camp.”

“You should really go. You’d make a phenomenal actor, you know. Really got everyone with the whole ‘Kel drowning’ thing,” Max said.

He’d meant the jab to be lighthearted, but Royce winced as if he’d been smacked. The pleasant smile on his face fell flatter than a dead balloon.

“Yeah, I think Kel’s still really mad about that. I don’t think I can handle spending another hour with him,” Royce admitted.

“Oh, so that’s what’s going on here,” Max said.

“He hasn’t talked to me all week. Look, I just want to help you with whatever you’re doing. I promise, it’ll make me feel better,” Royce said.

The camper seemed genuine enough, and after a short moment of deliberation, Max relented with a huff. “Fine. See the rim of the canoe? That’s called a gunnel. All of them need to be sanded and re-finished. I’m just about done here, but you can grab another board sander from the storehouse and help me on the next one.”

Royce nodded, complying without a single protest. He raced towards the little green canoe storage shed and grabbed one of the board sanders from the workbench. By the time he’d returned, Max had finished working in the finish, and was making his way over to the next canoe.

Max placed Royce down on the other side of the hull, setting the board sander down on the gunnels of the canoe, and fixing Royce’s hands on it.

“Press down hard,” Max instructed. “And go with the grain. If you don’t, we’ll have to re-do it.”

“Okay,” Royce said, doing as told.

Max took the other side of the canoe, and the two worked in a comfortable silence.

It was relieving for Max to finally be on decent terms with Royce. The camper had proved himself far easier to bear now that he’d dissolved his obsession with undermining Max at every turn. In addition, he had also proved himself to be a fairly decent worker. While it was clear that he didn’t have much of a background in mechanics or carpentry, he was intelligent enough to pick things up quickly, and only asked a stupid question occasionally.

“So, that Preston guy-,” Royce brought up, pausing for a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead and rub his shoulder. “-he’s the one who’s dating the nineteen-year-old, right? Is that why you’re not talking to him?”

“Christ, kid,” Max groaned.

“Did he cheat on you?” Royce asked.

“Do they still teach kids not to ask rude questions? Or is that not a thing anymore?”

Royce winced. “Sorry.”

“Get back to sanding,” Max snapped.

Royce complied without a word. They worked for a bit longer with nothing but the sound of the birds to surround them, and the heat of the afternoon sun on their backs.

Max fixed the slipshod work on Royce’s side of the boat, and they moved on to the next one.

“Max, can I ask you one more thing?” Royce asked, helping Max use a hose to wash out the dried sand and mud caked over the canoe’s hull.

“Depends.”

“It’s not about Preston or you or anything,” Royce added hastily.

“Then go ahead.”

Royce swallowed hard.

“So, like, about the whole Kel thing. I kind of left something out about what happened. I did something really bad,” Royce confessed. “And I-I know you’re good at giving advice or whatever, so maybe you can help me figure out how I can fix it.”

“Well, what else did you do?” Max asked, not looking up.

“I mean, you know that Kel didn’t ever really want to get you in trouble, right? I guess I kind of had to… make him.”

Max paused, looking over the canoe at Royce. The camper had stopped scrubbing and was instead wringing out the rag over and over in his hands.

“I… I told him that if he didn’t help me, I would tell everyone about his secret. I mean- I was completely lying! I wouldn’t ever, _ever_ do something like that. I just-,”

“Wow,” Max whistled low. “You’re right. That is shitty.”

“He’s going to hate me forever,” Royce groaned. “And he has every right to. I’m a crappy friend.”

“He’s not gonna hate you, kid,” Max rolled his eyes. “Just go up to him and apologize like a decent human being. It’s not that fucking deep.”

“I just-,”

“You just what?” Max interrupted, his patience being drawn. “Look, kid, either you apologize or you don’t. Personally, I don’t give a shit _what_ you do. I’m having a fucking day myself, and I don’t need your problems to deal with on top of it.”

“Okay, well, what if you talked to Preston?” Royce asked. “Then we’re both doing something we don’t want to do.”

“Will it make you shut up and get to work?” Max asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Max inspected the expression on Royce’s face. The boy seemed to be genuinely desperate, his eyes wider than platters, and his knuckles white from twisting the rag too tightly. With a relenting sigh, Max decided that, once again, he’d drop his resolve for the boy.

“Fine,” Max snapped. “But don’t you fucking ever ask me for anything again. You understand me?”

Royce flinched at Max’s tone- but agreed eagerly with a nod and jumped back into cleaning the canoe.

With Royce picking up half of the work, the two managed to finish the entire job only twenty minutes into the next afternoon activity. Max and Royce hung up the canoes together, and afterwards made their way along the lake and towards the amphitheater.

David waved to them from the bleachers and pointed to the stage as they sat down.

“Preston is teaching Kel all about stunt acting,” David said excitedly. “It’s so interesting!”

“Oh, what a blast,” Max deadpanned, turning his attention towards the stage.

Even from the bleachers, Max could clearly hear Preston’s stage voice as it projected. “Now, remember! The audience will be focused on your movements. So be expressive! Alright, let’s take it once more from the top!”

Max had remembered sitting in on one of Preston’s teaching sessions before- back when the man had considered being a theater teacher instead of a full-time performer. Preston unfortunately had to carry the double-edged sword of being a chronic perfectionist _and_ wildly impatient.

He had done good work, but only at the expense of his own stress.

Max watched as the two choreographed a stage-fight, laughing to himself at how absolutely ridiculous Preston looked as he pretended to get his lights knocked out by a pre-teen.

“Excellent footing! You’re stealing the show!” The actor praised as Kel moved in time with him. “More recoil on that hit! Yes, perfect!”

Eventually, Preston called for a break. He sat down on the edge of the stage with Kel, folding his hands over his head as both actors tried to catch their breaths. Kel casted a quick glance up towards the bleachers and instantly frowned before averting his eyes back to Preston.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Max said, nudging Royce to stand.

“Okay,” Royce murmured, placing a hand over his chest to feel for his heartbeat. “You too.”

Max’s stomach turned as he walked over to the stage. There had been a time not long ago when Preston had been Max’s source of comfort in the world. But now, the only comfort Max found in Preston was the concept of being as far away as possible from him.

Still, he had made a promise to Royce. With a dry mouth, he choked out, “Preston.”

Preston paused in the middle of an anecdote he was telling more with his hands than with his mouth.

“O-oh, Max! Hello,” Preston said, his face flushing instantly.

“I think we should talk,” Max said, and the words came out as if he had rehearsed them.

Preston nodded, though he was slow to vocally reply, “Of course. Yes, absolutely. Kel, I’ll finish what I was saying later, okay?”

Kel frowned in visible displeasure though he nodded respectfully, “Okay, sir. Take your time.”

With his student’s dismissal, Preston hopped off the stage and stood facing Max. For a moment, neither of them did anything. Then, Max coughed into his hand and jerked his head over to the lake.

“Let’s take a walk,” Max said.

“That sounds good, yes,” Preston replied.

Max shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground as he ambled towards the lakeshore. He waited to speak until he was sure that they had retreated out of earshot from his campers. Max took in a deep breath.

“Pres-,”

Preston interrupted, “It’s nice to-,”

“Shit, sorry. Did you-?”

“No, no, not at all. You go first.”

Max bit his lip. “It’s fine. I lost my train of thought anyways. You go.”

Preston frowned at the obvious lie but continued to speak anyways. “I was just going to say that it’s nice to see you,” he said.

Max grimaced. “It’s something.”

The awkwardness between them was starting to feel like a constrictor around Max’s neck that tightened with every passing moment of silence. He hated it. He hated not being able to talk freely and openly with the one person he’d always confided in before. Even his encounters with Neil, though cruel, had never been so scarce for words.

Preston spouted off random, half-hearted attempts at small-talk. “How’s work?” and “Wow, the camp has really changed” were met with the dull responses of, “Fine” and “Sure has” respectively.

Preston fiddled with the belt of his tunic. “It’s so strange to see Nikki and Neil-,”

“Preston, cut the shit,” Max finally snapped. He stopped walking and turned to look Preston in the eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the stubble. Patches of unevenly trimmed hairs poked out on his chin and neck, which immediately set off alarm bells in Max’s head. In the years they’d lived together, Preston had always shaved religiously, never finding the itchy surface of facial hair appealing.

The rest of Preston hadn’t been kept up much better- his eyes were tired and lacking of any liquid concealer, and his short hair was wild and unbrushed. He still stood tall and proud- like any dignified person- but Max could see the invisible weight pulling down on his shoulders.

Max sighed. “Man, why are you here? Look, I get it- if you’re happy with Marcus, I won’t fucking bother you anymore. You didn’t have to come all the way here just to tell me that you’ve moved on.”

“That’s not it,” Preston said, his voice quiet.

“Preston, I saw you at his _house_ ,” Max said. “For fuck’s sake- I found his hoodie behind our mattress! I’m not stupid, okay? I know what’s going on.”

“Max, please, listen to me-,” Preston begged. “Yes, Marcus was actively trying to make me lose my feelings for you, but I _swear_ on my life: I didn’t do anything with him. And I know I ignored some of your texts-,”

“So, you _did_ ignore them,” Max confirmed, gritting his teeth.

“I ignored _some_ of them- at _first_!” Preston finally snapped. Max jolted at the man’s volume, instinctively looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody had heard him. “But can you blame me? I was hurt! I was resentful! I felt cheated, and- and _used_ , and…”

Preston swallowed hard and crossed his arms over his chest. He fanned his face with his hand, trying to fend of the tears that were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. “Max, I put my entire heart into a relationship that didn’t exist. And I was too foolish to even realize it. And when you finally told me, it was like a slap to the face.”

Preston broke off to wipe at his eyes. The only sound between he and Max was the stutter of his own breathing.

Max swallowed hard. “Preston, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Preston sighed. “I know you are.”

“But if you weren’t ignoring me that entire time, then why the hell didn’t you ever text back?”

Preston fiddled with his hands, linking and unlinking his spiderlike fingers as he talked.

“I already told you that Marcus was trying to sabotage our relationship, yes? Well, I was so busy directing our musical when you first left that I was leaving my phone unattended for long stretches of time. During them, Marcus was deleting my texts and call-logs. Eventually, he blocked your contact entirely. I didn’t even know you were sending me messages until you showed up at his house.

“And when I tried to text you, he put your name under a different number- so none of my texts could go through either. Hell, I had to call up Wal-Mart to see if they still had your real phone number on record just so that I could call you again.”

Max let go of a long, defeated laugh. “I should’ve punched that bastard out when I had the chance.” The weak smile on his face quickly thinned back out. “I guess it doesn’t matter, though. We’re still in the same place we were, aren’t we?”

“Max, what am I to you?” Preston asked suddenly.

Max stared at him. And he thought about the eight years they’d spent together, and the way that Preston had picked him up at his lowest. He thought about their shitty bed, and about how badly he wanted to lay down on it with Preston next to him. He thought about the misery that had evaded him in the wake of this man- who always looked best in the golden morning sun, and who he was willing to do anything for.

And without meaning to, Max smiled.

“Fuck, Preston,” he said. “You’re everything.”

At once, all of the exhaustion and stress on Preston’s face vanished in a tidal wave of relief. He grabbed Max’s hand and held it tightly in his own. Max let him.

They walked in silence for a stretch of time, simply re-adjusting to the feeling of the other. By the time they had reached the end of the lakeshore, Preston had gathered himself up enough to speak up again.

“Camp’s over soon, isn’t it? Do you think you’ll come back to the apartment?” Preston asked.

Max grinned. “Yeah. I think I will.”

And for the first time in a long time, Max felt himself changing with the rest of the world. And he didn’t feel as if he was going too fast or lagging behind. Standing there next to Preston after so long apart, Max felt as if he were exactly where he was supposed to be.

“So, what do we do now?” Max asked, breaking the silence. “Do you want us to start over?”

Preston shook his head. “No. Truthfully, I don’t think we should start over. But… I do believe a second chance is in order.”

Max cracked a grin. “You’re so fucking pretentious. You know what I meant.”

“Did I?” a coy look passed over Preston’s face. Both men laughed with the kind of ease that felt like home.

They walked hand-in-hand back to the amphitheater together, and they never once let go the entire way there.

* * *

 

Max pushed the hot embers at the end of his stick into the heart of the firepit, watching intently as the tinder at the heart caught with ease. He prodded at the newborn fire until he was confident that it was solid enough to hold its own.

Satisfied, Max snuffed out his poking stick and took a step back to watch as the flames licked and ate at the dead wood.

Around him, the campfire hummed with life. David strummed his guitar, encouraging the nearby campers to sing with him. Campers huddled together in clumps on the makeshift log-benches, passing around a bag of marshmallows and graham crackers.

Max sat down on the bench next to Royce, who was still apparently keeping his distance from Kel.

“Well, kid?” Max prompted.

“I apologized,” Royce shrugged. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Kel said he’d think about it. How did talking to that Preston guy go?”

Max glanced across the firepit towards the actor, who was preparing a few campers to act out a dramatic horror story. Derby, who had apparently found her niche in costume design, fretted over the fake blood and guts falling out of the campers’ shirts.

A few yards away from them, Neil was glaring at Preston with all the hatred he could muster. His jaw was clenched tight beneath his deep frown, and he muttered obscenities under his breath. Max held back a snicker at the sight.  

“It went pretty damn good,” Max said finally, turning his attention back to Royce.

It felt odd to have nostalgia for a place he had never liked as a kid, but Max couldn’t help but feel a wrench in his chest as he stared out into the familiar sight of the roaring campfire. He finally realized why David seemed to like it so much at camp: there was this sense of effortless comfort in the company of everyone else- and it was hard not to be overwhelmed with the sensation of belonging.

Max shook his head in disbelief. “You know, it’s hard to believe, but I think I’m gonna miss this hellhole.”

Instead of smiling back, Royce tensed. “Yeah. Camp is over soon, huh?”

Max’s grin fell at the boy’s grim expression. “What? Not excited to go back home?”

Royce responded with a shrug. Without another word, he turned away from Max, and stared listlessly into the fire with a furrowed brow and tired eyes.

Royce pulled his flannel closer into his chest as if the air had frozen around him. It was the same flannel he’d worn all summer. And it was the only article of clothing he’d brought with him other than his singular pair of shorts and shoes. And suddenly, Max understood:

Royce didn’t have a home to go back to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a Kudos, Comment, Bookmark, or Read! I appreciate the heck out of all of you! 
> 
> This chapter was tough to write, because I really wanted to make sure that I, like Max, wasn't rushing or lagging with the pacing. I'm not quite sure how well I actually did, but it's here and it's done! I've spent almost an entire year on this fanfiction, and it's so wild now to finally see it winding down. Thank you to everyone who has supported it and me over the past months! 
> 
> It's not over yet, though! I still have a few more words to say before I can finally close this one up, so stay tuned.


	12. Max's One Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS FOR:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Neglectful Parenting  
> -Ableism

Max's One Thing

The morning that marked the last day of camp felt sobering.

Max jolted awake to the buzz of his phone’s alarm clock. Instinctively, he flipped around on his mattress and shoved the noisy device under his pillow to muffle it as he disarmed its ringer. As soon as the threat of waking up the rest of his cabin had been dissolved, Max stretched out his sore limbs and yawned.

He had been overworked to his limits the evening prior- running around camp to help all the campers with gathering up their things.

From his window, Max could see the morning sun just barely peeking above the lake and painting the cloudless sky a brilliant orange. Max stayed still a moment- allowing himself to simply take in his final morning at camp.

Finality, it seemed, made everything precious.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Max got out of bed and slipped on his red hoodie and his hiking boots. He returned his attention back to his cellphone for just long enough to text a quick “good morning” to Preston, and then pocketed it.

It was easy then to shove Preston into the back of his mind as he made his way across the room and knelt down at David’s bunk.

“Hey, wake up,” Max prompted, jostling David’s shoulder.

David woke with a start- though he relaxed instantly upon recognizing Max’s face.

“Max? Is something wrong?” David asked politely, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Put on your boots. We’re going on a hike,” Max said.

David shot Max a quizzical look- but didn’t question him. Instead, he nodded and complied with the request, stepping into his muddy hiking boots and fixing his vest over his shoulders. It wasn’t until they were well out of the cabin that David started speaking up again.

“May I ask where we’re going?”

“No,” Max said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he led David towards the forest.

“Alright then.”

The morning-savvy birds above them chirped in greeting as they made their way past the mouth of the forest. They hiked in silence over the same well-trodden path that Max had been taking every morning for weeks. Max could almost see where the grass had been trampled down by his own persistent footsteps.

Oddly, the feeling of making a change in something as permanent as the forest filled Max with a sense of solidity. For the first time in a while, he felt real.

The feeling was short-lived, however. As soon as the trail started sloping uphill, David seemed to figure out where they were headed.

“Max? Why are we-,”

“Shut up,” Max snapped. “You’ll see, okay?”

Max winced at his own tone. He’d meant for his voice to come out more assuring than harsh, but his own anxiety was starting to crawl up his spine like a bad chill.

Max stopped at the bushes that blocked off the Sleepy Peaks gorge at its most perilous spot. Beyond them, there was only a meter of flat land before the ledge dropped off into the deadly pit below.

When he looked back to gauge David’s expression, he was met by a pale, sweating face and clenched fists. David stared at that deceptive leafy barricade in the same way that abused dogs often stared at men’s work boots. He didn’t even blink.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his steeled voice breaking rank for a moment to allow compassion through.

“This is it,” David murmured, chest stuttering. “This is where Jasper died. He… he was looking behind his shoulder at me- I must’ve said something to grab his attention- and he didn’t see the ledge.”

“Are you okay?” Max asked again.

David swallowed hard- and though he breathed as if he’d just run a marathon, he smiled. “I’ll be fine, Max. Just… please, watch your step.”

Max bit his lower lip. “How about you go in front of me?”

“O-okay.”

David pushed in front of him almost protectively, passing through the shrubbery with no apparent hesitance, but sighing as he reached the other side.

David gasped as soon as he saw it. He looked like a curious child as he took one cautious step forward, and then another, until he was close enough to curl his fingers around the chain-links of the fence Max had built for him. David pushed on the fence experimentally, watching as it gave and recoiled.

“It goes down the entire length of the gorge,” Max said. “I mean, not entirely. But it goes to the edge of the clifftop, and down to where the ledge meets the river.”

“Does it?” David asked, running his fingertips along the aluminum rods that held the fence together.

At David’s lack of outward enthusiasm, Max ran a stiff hand through his hair and talked to his feet. “I know it’s kind of stupid, okay? It’s… I don’t know- I just thought that since the whole Jasper thing was getting to you or whatever-,”

“It’s very thoughtful,” David said plainly.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry if all I’m doing is bringing up bad memories or whatever,” Max continued to ramble. “But I owe you for, you know, _everything_. I know you think that me caring is a joke- and I don’t blame you. But I seriously do give a shit about you. And I give a shit about the campers, too. I just want them to be as safe as possible- especially after that whole river thing with Kel.”

A flash of misplaced guilt crossed David’s face before he buried it into Max’s shoulder and pulled the younger man into a tight hug. “You have a good heart.”

They broke apart after a moment, and David turned back to the blocked-off gorge. He wore a faint grin, and as if serving a vigil, made no noise to fill the overwhelming space between he and Max.

Then, as if nothing had ever fazed him to begin with, he spoke again. “How about we head back to camp? I’m sure our hungry campers would appreciate a nice sendoff breakfast.”

There was something about the way David fixed his appearance that made Max stare. It was not unlike the way one might fix a hole in the wall by placing a decoration to cover it. He was using appearance to conceal the underlying issue, as he had done several times in the past months.

But because Max had fought this hard already- this time, he refused to let it go.

“You’re not happy,” Max said.

“I’m sorry?”

“David, if you want something else from me, just say it. Look, I know the fence isn’t fucking perfect. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can do to show you that I give a rat’s ass about you. Just tell me what you want from me, okay?”  Behind his demanding words, Max stared at his toes.

David sighed, suddenly looking old again. He put his hand on Max’s shoulder and held it there firmly. Max had to force himself not to jerk his body away from the contact.

“Max, you don’t intend to work here forever, do you?”

“What?”

“Don’t take that the wrong way, of course. You’ve done an excellent job as a counselor- and _also_ as a groundskeeper. You’ve connected with your campers in a way that I’ve rarely seen before, and I couldn’t be prouder. But you’ve always been more ambitious than this, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but then capitalism and minimum wage happened,” Max snorted.

David laughed- a short, awkward one for the sake of putting Max at ease. “I was going to wait until after the campers went home, but I think I should make my offer now. Max, I’d like to pay for you to go to school.”

“What? No, David. You can’t pay for that,” Max replied instantly.

“Camp Campbell may be humble, Maxwell, but I assure you that money is no object to me. Now listen; I want you to get a degree and move on from this place. Maybe I couldn’t save you when you were young, but I feel as though being able to spend time with you again was the perfect second chance that both of us needed.”

“Quartering is a full-time job. You should know that,” Max huffed.

“Of course,” David nodded. “You’ll work here all throughout the summer, and two weeks in the spring, winter, and fall to manage upkeep. But otherwise, you should be free to take courses somewhere. Of course, I can’t _force_ you to pursue a higher education; however, I’d like you to at least think it over. Alright?”

Max’s throat felt dry. But despite, he nodded and swallowed what spit he could manage to gather up on his tongue. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Max and David chauffeured the bus ride to the pick-up area- a dinky little rest-stop off the side the highway. There wasn’t much to make of it, save for a few restrooms, a gas station, and a few glass canopies that arched over the sidewalks.

Back when Max had been a camper, the parents were supposed to drive all the way to camp on the last day to pick up their child. But to save for what was a six-hour round-trip for some, David had moved the pick-up location to a spot that met halfway between the camp and the city.

The bus was alive with noise throughout the ride. David sang every camp cheer he could think of to keep the kids from thinking too hard about the end.

When they arrived, the sky was a bleak gray. Low-hanging clouds trudged through the air like heavy cattle. Max ushered the campers outside and helped them with their luggage when necessary. Melody came last, her hand-me-down cello strapped to her bent back, and her bags loaded in Max’s arms.

“When are the parents coming?” Melody asked, thanking Max as he set down her suitcase.

Max glanced at the clock on his phone. “Fifteen minutes. Probably longer, if they’re running late.”

 _How exciting,_ Charlie signed bitterly.

The flow of cars trickled at first, but soon it was as if the dam had exploded, and all the sedans and SUV’s belonging to the campers’ families rushed forth in a huge surge. David had warned Max that he’d be expected to be social with the parents, but nothing could have prepared him for the absolute quantity of people who he didn’t recognize coming up to shake his hand and make small-talk with him.

David had gotten the harder job of the two- controlling traffic and entertaining the parents. All Max had to do was make sure that each parent’s ID matched up with the name on register before they took their child home.

Derby’s mother was the first parent he recognized. She was dressed up in the kind of fur coat that activists threw red paint on. She had deep red hair that was pulled up in an intricate braid, and concealer smeared over the still-visible freckles on her cheeks.

Derby tugged on the woman’s hand excitedly, imploring her to introduce herself.

“Elisa, dear, please stand still. You know I have motion sickness,” she smiled coyly and peered over her gaudy sunglasses to look at Max squarely. “You must be the counselor that Elisa has been going on about for the past five minutes. I’m Clara. How was she?”

Max glanced between Derby and Clara, counting in his head all the stark differences between them. “She was great,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“I made a quilt!” Derby yelled, digging into her backpack to rip out the sad scrap of patchwork. In truth, Derby herself had only contributed about half of the squares. The rest had been a mix of Max and David’s work.

Max half-expected Derby’s mother to wrinkle her nose in disgust, but to his surprise, the woman picked up the blanket and gasped in delight. She smiled as if she were afraid of getting wrinkles from her own joy.

“Oh, how fun is this? We can put it on the sofa when we get home, for when Nana comes over. She always does love to complain how cold it is in the house. Fold it up nicely, now.”

Derby beamed at the praise, taking the quilt back eagerly before tucking it under her chin to fold. She packed it back into her bags, hugged each one of her friends, and then took off towards the parking lot.

“I’ll race you to the car, mom!”

Clara covered her mouth as she laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. “Watch for cars, dear.”

Max let his tenseness fall away, suddenly feeling a lot better about letting the rambunctious girl leave in the hands of her mother.

But after she’d left, Max couldn’t ignore the feeling of a gap in the attendance of his campers. Without anyone to bicker with, Kel talked politely with Melody and Royce.

Charlie’s parents came next. They were both stick-thin people, with wire-framed glasses set low over their tired eyes. Charlie’s father frowned deeply as he dug out his drivers’ license from his wallet.

“Here. Donald Locklear,” the man huffed, tossing the ID into Max’s hands as if the entire security process was nothing more than an inconvenience for him. He had an accent to him that was impeccably northeastern.

“It checks out,” Max nodded, highlighting the man’s name from his list.

Charlie’s father accepted his ID back and pursed his lips. “Thank you, young man. And before I go- if you don’t mind- I’d like to know how my son fared with his… problem.”

Max cocked his head. “Problem?”

“The muteness.”

Max’s jaw stiffened. He had to force himself to keep his bitterness from edging through his tone. “Right. That. The kid did fine. It would’ve been nice if we’d known from the start that he used sign-language, but we figured it out eventually.”

“Sign-language?” Charlie’s mother perked up. “He’s still using that?”

“What do you mean?”

Charlie’s father drew his lip back and glared at Charlie with a familiar kind of ire that made the hair on the back of Max’s neck stick up.

“Deepest apologies for my boy, counselor. I hope you didn’t have to go through too much trouble. You see, he’s perfectly capable of speaking- my wife and I took him to a family doctor, and he told us that there’s nothing physically wrong with him.” The man sucked his cheeks in. “Linda and I think that he’s… you know, slow. He’s homeschooled, though, so we thought that putting him in an environment with other kids would help him overcome whatever stubbornness prevented him from speaking. Apparently not.”

At his father’s words, Charlie’s eyes fell to his feet. Max caught the way his chest stuttered with the beginnings of a sob.

“I- I promise, he’s very intelligent,” Max broke in, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “He’s been teaching us all about nature and plants. Hell, I think our head counselor didn’t even know some of the stuff that Charlie does.”

Charlie’s father sighed and forced a tight-lipped smile onto his face. “I see what you’re trying to do, young man. I appreciate it.”

He patted Charlie’s head- a proud gesture to contrast the disappointed look on his face. “Say goodbye, son.”

Charlie nodded, and as he walked forward, Max fell to his knee reflexively to level with him.

 _YOU BE O-K?_ , Max signed discreetly.

Charlie nodded stiffly. _I’ll be okay_. He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure his father’s attention had been pulled somewhere else before quickly adding, _I’m sorry, counselor. I wasn’t trying to make you mad. Hike was my first word._

Max could only smile with the saddest satisfaction as he looked one last time into the brilliant blue eyes of the young boy. He wished in that moment that he could have an hour to speak with Charlie- to tell him all the million things that he thought the boy might need to hear. But he only had a moment.

And in that moment, all he could say was, “Thank you, kid.”

And then he let go- and like that, Charlie was gone, too.

Royce met him with a face full of disbelief as Max sat back down. “Hey, aren’t you going to do something? That’s not right. They can’t talk about him like that.”

Max shrugged. “We’ve already done everything possible. All we can do now is hope that he’ll be okay, and that they’ll let him come back next summer.”

“Don’t you care?” Royce snapped.

“I _do_ care, alright? That’s why I can’t fucking do anything,” Max shot back.

“That makes no sense.”

Max bit the inside of his cheek and glanced down at Royce. Had he been younger- less stripped of life by the pains and shackles of age- he would have been just as resistant. Instead, he just sighed. “I know.”

Melody’s parents were the next to arrive. They came in a bright yellow airport shuttle, and all stepped out looking as if they were headed to the theater. A young man emerged from between the couple, his long, platinum hair draping over his shoulder.

Melody stopped in the middle of a conversation with Royce to race towards the boy Max recognized as her older brother, Lyric.

Lyric propped her up on his bony hip and smiled wearily. “Missed you.”

Melody smiled, hugging her arms around his neck. “Were they hard on you?” She murmured.

Lyric offered her a small grin and pulled her closer to his stick-thin chest. “Not at all.”

While Melody’s mother lagged behind to show her daughter souvenirs and pictures from France, her father barreled forward to shake Max’s hand. He seemed to be the kind of desperate charmer with more anxiety than ambition.

“Howdy there, mister. I’m Mr. Calloway. But please, call me Bill.”

Bill grabbed Max’s hand and shook it with all the eagerness of a child swinging a jump-rope at recess. Max ripped his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.

“Hi. I’m Max. I was your daughter’s counselor.”

Bill nodded like a novelty bobblehead, though it was clear that he wasn’t truly listening. The more Max looked at him, the more he seemed like one tuner-turn away from a snapped string.

“That’s good to hear. Now, ah- this is my business card if you’d like to chat more about it. The taxi driver back there’s charging me on the minute- you know how it is- so unfortunately, we can’t stay to chat. Thank you again, though! Appreciate it, my good man!”

With that, Bill herded his family into the yellow cab. Max could hear Melody protest as they went, begging her father to let her say her goodbyes to Royce and Kel.

But then Bill shut the door, and Melody couldn’t be heard anymore.

By then, a majority of the kids had left. The bustle of cars and people again dwindled down to a steady, yet manageable stream. In the time Max had between parents, he wondered briefly if it was worse to be picked up first, knowing that you had the least amount of time to accept your departure, or last, listening as the noise around you extinguished like a dying matchstick flame.

Max felt dread rise in his gut as Kel bounced up to greet the next family that arrived.

They were an older couple, with a young girl with bright orange hair between them. None of them looked anything like Kel- except for the man, who had his steel-gray eyes. Max flicked through his papers. His finger fell on the name: _Anderson, Kelly._

“Max! This is my Aunt Donna and Uncle Rich!” Kel beamed, bouncing in place as he dragged his family over. He let go of his uncle’s hand and wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “And this is my big cousin, Erin.”

“Hi, I’m Ke-, uh, I’m a counselor,” Max said awkwardly, unsure of how to refer to Kel in front of his own family.

Donna smiled in spite of Max’s discomfort and shook his hand firmly. “Oh, how handsome! My niece wasn’t too much trouble now, was she?”

Max paused, taking a moment to realize that the woman was referring to Kel. “Uh- some?”

“Some?” Rich asked, though he seemed more amused than concerned. Kel bit the inside of his cheek.

Max nodded, “Good camper,” he said finally. “Just got into situations that, you know- hard to get out of.”

Rich laughed and clapped Max on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, brother. Don’t want you to lose your job now.” (Max winced at that particular comment) “Come on, Kelly, let’s go. Your cousin’s got a softball game this evening.”

Kel smiled meekly. “Of course, sir. Can I just say one more goodbye, though? I’ll be really quick, I promise.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Rich’s mouth. “Sure. Make it snappy.”

As soon as he had the go-ahead, Kel instantly raced off towards Royce. He tackled the other boy in a tight hug. “I’ll miss you a lot. Do you have my email?”

“Yeah,” Royce said. “And I’ll miss you, too. I’ll message you as soon as possible, okay? Will you be alright?”

Kel pulled away and glanced at his family. He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think so.”

And with that, he turned his back on the camp, and walked with his family back to their car. And without any hesitance, they pulled away. Max watched as the SUV drove up the ramp and out of sight.

Strangely, Max felt as if some part of him were leaving in that car- ripping away from his own body to be elsewhere. Even stranger was that the sensation made him feel fuller, rather than emptier.

He pushed that feeling away as he acknowledged the other parents. He made small talk just as David had asked him to, but he found that after Kel had left, there was just simply no other person for whom he cared to take note of.

And without the motivation to notice the details, everyone and everything around him became a blur. But not like the kind of blur one experiences on a carnival ride, with lights and wind whipping around them. It was the kind of blur a painter might find when they accidentally smudge every color on their pallet together and create gray.

“It looks so empty,” Royce said.

“I know,” Max said back. “Feels so fucking weird not to have everyone screaming in my ears at once.”

Royce didn’t even blink at the swear. “It does.”

The last campers left quietly. There were no more friends left for them to hug goodbye, and so they had nothing else to do except drag their feet across the parking lot as they got into their parents’ car to leave.

And then there was only one camper left.

Royce hardly looked fazed. Max had expected the boy to be at least a bit pitiful- to glance up at the sound of passing cars, or to storm off in anger. But he only continued to sit calmly- a sign that he had not only been expecting this outcome- but had also already emotionally prepared himself for it.

David bit his lip as he walked up to them. The afternoon sun was only starting its decent back into the horizon. Max passed David the sign-out forms he’d been keeping all day, and David stacked them neatly on his lap as he sat down on the bench next to them.

“Do you think your father got the wrong time, Royce? We could call him.”

“I don’t know his number. He always changes it,” Royce said, as if reciting a line.

The two counselors exchanged a look. “Well, how about we call the number we have on file just in case?” David quickly sifted through the sign-out forms, looking for the one name without a highlighter strike through it.

He dialed up the number on his cellphone and pressed it to his ear. Instantly he frowned. “Line’s dead,” he confirmed.

“So, what do we do?” Max asked.

“You could drive me back to the city,” Royce suggested. “And I can just walk to his address. I know where it is.”

“Don’t even suggest something so silly,” David said. He didn’t seem to understand that Royce hadn’t been joking.

Max was about to open his mouth when the Quartermaster approached them. He tapped the face of his watch insistently. “I’m leavin’ soon.”

“Just give us a bit longer, please.” David said back. He turned to Royce and settled a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. Let’s just give him a few more minutes.”

Max furrowed his brow. “David-,”

“We are _waiting,_ Max,” David snapped back. “Whatever you have to say; I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Max suppressed the smart comment on his tongue with a groan. They waited outside in silence for another hour before the Quartermaster honked the bus horn in annoyance.

Royce stood up suddenly. “I’m getting back on the bus. I don’t want to keep the Quartermaster waiting. Sorry, counselor,” he snapped.

Max slapped his hands on the bench and pushed himself up. “I was going to tell you not to get his fucking hopes up, jackass,” Max snapped at David, pocketing his hands and following the teenager to the bus.

The three rode back to camp in silence. Max pushed David into the front-row seat right behind the driver’s char and sat right next to him to ensure that Royce would be able to have some space for the ride home. By the time they’d returned, the clouds had vanished completely overhead. Golden hour had set in, and it only struck Max then how funny it was that the weather never complimented his mood in real life like it did in the movies.

Nikki and Neil were waiting for them outside the mess hall. Neil sported a dressed-up flannel, and Nikki wore an old gym shirt. Their faces fell as soon as they saw Royce dismount the bus. In a panic, Neil tossed the bottle of celebratory alcohol he was holding into the bushes behind him.

“David wh-,”

“Not now, Neil. I have to go into the counselor’s office to make some important calls. Royce? You wouldn’t mind coming with me, would you?”

Royce shrugged, silently complying to the request. As soon as they were out of earshot, Neil snapped, “Max, what the _hell is he still doing here?”_

Max ran a hand through his hair. “Parents never came.”

“Oh, no,” Nikki said, placing a hand over her mouth.

“So, what do we do now? I-I mean, Nikki and I already booked our flights for Thursday. And it’s not like David doesn’t have his own home to go to,” Neil thought aloud, rubbing his hands together. “It’s not like we can leave him here. Right?”

Max shook his head, “I don’t know, Neil. Maybe… maybe he can come home with me. I mean, it’s not like I have a life to get back to after tomorrow.”

“You can’t do that! Are you fucking crazy?”

“Well, fuck, Neil! If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it! Look, it’s not like we have a wide fucking range of options here. I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Max, I’m sorry-,”

“Not now, Neil. I’m gonna call Preston. I’ll meet you in the mess hall.”

Neil and Nikki glanced at one another in concern before mutually agreeing to retreat into the building behind them. As soon as they were gone, Max whipped out his cell and held down his speed-dial to contact Preston.

The phone rang twice before Preston picked up.

“Maxwell!” Preston greeted. His voice was somewhat airy- meaning that he must have raced to pick up his ringing phone. The comforting thought was enough to keep Max’s voice steady as he replied.

“Hey, Preston,” Max murmured. “Uh- how was your day?”

“Oh, boring, boring. I’m far more interested in yours. Tell me- how was saying goodbye to all the campers?”

Max scoffed. “I’m fucking peached to be rid of all the little shits. What, you didn’t think I cared, did you?”

“Oh, hush,” Preston said. Max could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll ‘fess. It was actually kind of hard to watch them leave,” Max sighed. He felt a chill creep up his spine as he continued. “But that’s kind of what I called to talk about.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, Royce’s parents never came to pick him up.”

Preston paused on the other line before mustering up a soft, “Oh?”

“Yeah. And we’re having some trouble contacting them. Apparently, his dad changed numbers.”

“So, what’s going to happen to the poor thing?”

Max let go of a long sigh. “I don’t know. I’m driving Neil and Nikki to the airport in two days, and then I’m coming home. And obviously, David can’t just stay here with him. I think I have a temporary solution, but I wanted to run it by you first.”

“I don’t know if I like where this is going, Maxwell.”

“Just hear me out, okay? What if he stayed with us? Just for a few days, until we can get ahold of his parents.”

“Is that even legal?” Preston asked. “Max, we can’t take care of a child! We can hardly take care of ourselves.”

“That’s the thing, though; Royce is fourteen. He can take care of himself. We just have to give him a place to crash, you know?”

“Max, we can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I thought when you came back, we were going to focus on us. You can’t keep clogging your life with other people’s problems. Believe me, I think it’s awful that Royce’s parents aren’t coming for him, but it’s not really our responsibility to clean up their mess. There’s no reason to believe that David isn’t more well-equipped to take care of him.”

“Yes, there is! Preston, David doesn’t _get_ him!” Max snapped.

The line went silent as Preston waited patiently for Max to cool his temper. And then, after just enough time had gone by to make Max feel stupid for his outburst, Preston spoke up again.

“You’re being selfish,” Preston said.

“Fuck, I know,” Max said. “I’m sorry.”

Preston exhaled just loud enough for Max to hear the exasperation in his breath. “If David can’t take him, he can stay with us. But that’s our last resort. Do you understand?”

Max let his eyes fall shut in relief. “Yeah. Yeah, okay- I understand. Thank you, Preston.”

“Get some rest, okay? You’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow. I love you.”

Max managed the beginnings of a smile. “I know you do. Night to you, too.”

He hung up his phone then, staring at the bright screen moments after. And when it flickered to black, Max could only continue to stare at his dim reflection. And though his face belonged to a twenty-four-year-old man, beaten down by the elements of life; his eyes still looked the same as they had when he’d been ten- full of uncertainty, and with the painful desire to do even one thing right.

And in that moment, he could only be certain that Royce was his one thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I just keep taking hiatuses, huh? Anyways, we're coming up on 1 year of working on this fic, and God, has it been wild. I never thought that I'd spend so long writing a fanfiction- or that I'd get so attached to it. 
> 
> We're not done yet, but in the meantime, I'd like to thank everybody who gave this fic a Comment, Bookmark, Kudos, or read! You're all spectacular!


	13. Royce Goes Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings For:  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Implied Neglect of Child  
> -Separated Parents  
> -Depictions of Anxiety  
> -Child Death  
> -Depictions of Trauma

Royce Goes Away

Max grunted as he lifted Neil’s bags from out of his car’s trunk. He dropped them down on the weathered pavement with a hard _thunk_ and shot a glance towards the big glass doors of the airport.

It was two in the morning, and the sky was pitch-black. Towering stadium lights glared over the airport pavilion, casting shadows under everyone’s eyes that made the dark circles already present seem even darker. The cold sting of the night air on Max’s skin made him shiver- a sure sign that the end of summer was becoming just as literal as it had been metaphoric.

Max slammed his trunk shut and took in the sight of his old best friends one last time. They were dressed in comfort clothes for the long trip home. After they walked past those gates, they would be parting ways; Neil would be heading back to Connecticut to return work at his research job in Yale, and Nikki would be flying to her home with Leanne in Nevada.

And Max would be staying behind- right where he’d always been. He tried not to let the fact make him bitter- and tried even harder not to become the dead-weight keeping his friends from getting back to their real lives.

It wasn’t as if the two were especially eager to leave, though.

“You gonna miss us, Max?” Nikki asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Miss you? Yeah, you fucking wish,” Max shot back with equal fervor, “I personally can’t wait to be away from you two freaks.”

“Aw, you _do_ care,” Nikki said.

“Fuck off,” Max rolled his eyes. “What, do you want a hug or something?”

Nikki’s smile wavered. “Only if it’s okay with you.”

Max made a production of sighing as loudly as possible before relenting with a nod and holding out his arms. Nikki wasted little time rushing into them. Max awkwardly rubbed circled into her back as she placed her chin atop his shoulder.

“Good luck this season,” Max murmured.

Nikki laughed and pulled away. “I’m not playing this fall, silly. Did you seriously think I could just get back into it after missing an entire summer of training? I’ll probably be benched until next year.”

“That’s shitty.”

“It’s okay. I think it’ll be good to spend the extra time Leanne and Emily anyways, you know?”

“Smart,” Max said.

Nikki beamed at the approval.

Max’s eyes then found Neil. The strained grin on his face instinctively slipped into a more comfortable frown, and he almost found the words on his tongue to apologize. But before he could open his mouth and let them out, Neil interrupted him.

“Bye, Max,” Neil said. The curtness in his voice hurt more than any insult could have.

Max stared for a moment at the man who had gone so quickly from being his best friend to his greatest annoyance and nodded. “I’ll see you at Nikki’s wedding?”

“Likely,” Neil said back.

“Okay.”

Max’s words were nothing of what he had actually wanted to say, but he had at least given the promise that he might say it later. And that seemed to be enough for Neil, who managed to crack a weak grin at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks for driving us, Max.”

“Anything for you, Neil,” Max said. “Anything for you.”

Max had meant for the words to come out sarcastically but found himself surprised at how genuine they truly were.

And with that, Max watched as the two walked away and passed through the clean, automatic doors before them. They managed to call out one last goodbye, and then they were off- back to the lives that they’d forged for ten years without Max’s presence in them; lives that they could probably continue for the next century in a similar fashion.

Except maybe he’d stay anyways. Maybe he’d hold true to the promise that he’d made to Nikki.

Because if he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he had lived those ten years apart just as easily as they had. However, if he were honest with himself, he’d admit that the thought of spending the next ten years _together_ was starting to sound pretty nice.

And for the first time in his life, Max entertained the fact that maybe Neil and Nikki had not left him behind at all- maybe instead, he had let them go.

The ride back to camp was engulfed in a tranquil quiet. Only the sound of the car’s tires as they cruised over the paved highways accompanied him as he drove.

David was waiting for him by the flagpole when he returned. The older counselor was pacing back and forth about the area with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, and his eyes on the dirt.

Max parked his car and stepped out. “Well?” he asked, shutting the door, “What’s the verdict?”

David jumped at Max’s voice. “Goodness, you scared me. I didn’t even hear you pull up.” Max noticed that the man was trembling like an overdue leaf in the autumn wind. “In any case, we couldn’t get his passport. He has to go with you. Or, I could rent a hotel, and-,”

“David, don’t be a fucking idiot. You have to go home. I’ll be able to watch him until his father calls.”

David frowned. “If you ever need _anything_ , you call me. Is that clear? I have open flight tickets on-hold, and I’ll be able to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“We’ll be _fine,”_ Max snapped. “Can you give me some goddamned credit already? I’m a grown-ass man, and I can fend for myself.”

David bit the inside of his cheek and nodded meekly. “Alright. Of Course. I trust you. But, ah- before we go in: did you think about my offer?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“And what did you think?”

Max shifted awkwardly. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

David sighed, his breath rattling in his chest. “I don’t want to rush you, but you don’t have much time to be uncertain. Fall semester is starting quite soon.”

“Fine. I’m not ready yet, okay?” Max said. “I mean, fuck, I barely passed high school. No offense to myself, but I don’t know if I want to waste your money on something that might not even work out.”

 “You won’t fail, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” David said.

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I just _do_. Max, you’re an amazing young man. I think that if you just let me help, you’ll have the potential to succeed.”

Max snapped.

“You don’t know shit about me, _Davey_. Quit trying to pretend like this is some noble thing you’re doing, when you’re really just trying to get over your own goddamned guilt. Stop acting like you care about me, you self-righteous asshole. Go suck a dick.”

David sighed and waited patiently while Max rode out the remainder of his outburst.

“Now, Max, are you done?” he asked after a time had elapsed.

Max rolled his eyes. “I’m fucking peached. Let’s just get Royce so that I can get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to talk about this stupid fucking shit anymore.”

“Maxwell-,”

“Don’t call me that.”

David sighed and pocketed his hands to prove his lack of aggression. He kept a fair gap of space between them and refrained from leaning forward into Max’s personal space.

Max had taken to staring at the ground by time David spoke up again.

“Why are you so resistant to the concept of someone caring about you? Why does that make you so angry? Did I do something offensive without knowing, or what?”

Max let go of a stuttered breath. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m just a shitty person.” The frank softness of his tone shocked even him as he continued. “I think I only help people because it makes me feel like less of a failure. I guess I’m just pissed that you don’t need some selfish motive to help people. You’re a legitimately good person. I’m just not. Okay? I’m sorry.”

And then, like a needle being plunged into a balloon, all the air in Max’s lungs gave out. He felt dizzy as the flimsy earth beneath him shifted. And everything felt too loud, and too bright, and too present. And even the calm wind brushing against his exposed arms felt like a million little pinpricks.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and took in a steady breath.

“Max?” he could hear David’s voice vaguely in the back of his head.

“I’m fine,” Max said. “I’m going to be fucking fine.”

He took in one more long breath before opening his eyes again. When he did, the world had stopped spinning- and was now only pleasantly swaying off-kilter.

“Can I tell you something?” David asked quietly. His voice was crisp and clear despite.

Max laughed crossly. “If it makes this fucking anxiety worse, I’ll kill you.”

David smiled a bit and averted his eyes. “Look, I’ve been around for a long time. And I’ve learned that it doesn’t really matter what your reason is for helping other people. What matters is that you do. And God, Max. You do.”

And then David looked at Max squarely, and there was a clarity to his eyes that felt almost too intimate for Max to hold with his own. But out of courtesy, he did not look away as David continued.

“Don’t assume that I’m not selfish. You know, you were right about one thing: I am guilty,” David said. He took a moment to swallow his spit before speaking again. “There’s a reason I’m so adamant about my campers’ safety.”

“Yeah?” Max asked, settling back into the solid world around him.

“Yes. I’m sure you know already that Cameron Campbell was not the most ethical man. When Jasper died, he paid millions to corrupt lawyers and investigators in order to cover up his involvement in the incident. When his parents took it to court, they lost and got nothing for their son’s death. They had to watch a man whose carelessness had ruined their lives walk away and live the rest of his own life without consequence.”

David shook his head and rubbed the toe of his shoe into the dirt. “I always said that when I took over his legacy, I would right his wrongs and make things better again. But it’s been two years since then, and I haven’t even gotten the guts to _apologize_. How can I look at those people in the eyes after _two decades_ of injustice and make things right again? I can’t bring their son back. I know that. But what I _can_ do is make sure that nothing like that ever happens again.”

“I mean, David, you’re right- that’s shitty. But what’s the point of you telling me? I can’t do anything about it,” Max said.

“I’m trying to tell you that there’s no such thing as a good deed without any motivation behind it. Nobody is selfless. Quit beating yourself up because my reason for being kind is different than yours.”

“David, I’m sorry,” Max said.

David smiled, and the corners of his eyes that betrayed all thirty-eight years of his life crinkled. “I know you are. Let’s go get Royce, yes? We shouldn’t keep him waiting longer than we already have. Do you feel alright?”

“I do.”

David exhaled, and it seemed as if all the guilt he’d been holding back had finally found its way out with the air leaving his chest. He had nothing to hide any longer- and likewise, Max had nothing left to look for.

Together, they collected Royce from the mess hall and ushered him out.

The young boy held a lukewarm cup of coffee between his fingers, and he gagged after each sip he took of it.

“Since when do you drink coffee?” Max raised an eyebrow.

“Since waking up at three AM. It’s disgusting. No wonder you’re always annoyed in the mornings.”

Max rolled his eyes and, feeling something like a hypocrite, grabbed the coffee mug from Royce and dumped the tar-black liquid into the grass. “You’re too young for that. Just sleep in the damn car.”

Royce didn’t seem to have the energy to complain. He shrugged and dragged his feet to the passenger’s side of Max’s sedan, buckling himself in as Max tossed his own bags into the trunk. In the cool breeze, Max could hear nothing else but the Camp Campbell flag’s tassel as it clanged against the metal flagpole.

Max said one final goodbye to David before settling into the driver’s side and turning his keys in the ignition.

“You ready to go?” Max asked.

Royce didn’t respond; he was already turned over in the passenger’s side seat, his eyes slammed shut and his arms firmly crossed over his chest. Max sighed and switched on the radio, lowering the volume to a pleasant hum as he pulled out of camp.

He forced himself not to look back as the grounds of Camp Campbell began to disappear back into the forest it had emerged from. He kept his focus solely on the road, the rumbling of his car’s shitty engine, and the sound of the birds as they called out their ritual good-mornings.

They pulled into the parking lot belonging to Max’s apartment by half-past seven.

Max glanced over at Royce as he cut the engine. Sometime during the long drive, the boy had actually fallen asleep- his breathing slow, and his mouth half-ajar. Max had to marvel at how Royce almost looked his own age in that moment.

He didn’t let it last long.

Max shook Royce’s shoulder gently. “We’re here, kid. Get up.”

Royce woke gradually, yawning out a slurred, “Okay, okay,” as he slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Max took his bags from the trunk before leading Royce past the glass doors of his complex and up the stairs to his apartment. The door was unlocked when he tried the knob.

“Preston, we’re home,” Max announced, shouldering the wooden slab open.

Preston was awake to greet them- and did so not moment after they had stepped inside. He insisted on taking Max’s bags to be unpacked in their bedroom.

“I’ve got coffee brewing,” Preston called as he retreated into the back of the house. “Royce, do you drink coffee?”

Royce shot Max an approval-seeking glance before replying, “Do you have orange juice?”

“Certainly. Max, would you be so kind as to get it for him? I’m thinking about putting a load in.”

Max groaned. He nudged Royce into the kitchen and pointed to the cabinets. “Second door’s where we keep the cups. Orange juice is in the fridge. Go wild. I’ll be right back.”

With those instructions, he left Royce to his own devices and headed back to the bedroom. He found Preston sitting on his calves in the middle of the floor, hunched over Max’s suitcase. He seemed to be deeply focused on sorting out the darks and lights for the wash.

Max sat down next to him, and watched as he dug through the heap of dirty clothing. The shaking in Preston’s hands were apparent even as they moved.

“Do you want to relax?” Max asked.

“I’m quite fine, thank you. Go and sit with our guest,” Preston snapped. As if the sound of his own sharp tone had struck something in him, he paused his work and combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. This is just a bit stressful. How long did you say he was staying?”

“I don’t know,” Max answered truthfully. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Did I ever tell you about my opinion on children?” Preston asked.

“No, but thank God Royce is a teenager.”

“You’re such a pain to love.”

“Not my fault if you’re a masochist.” (Preston went red in the ears at that comment) “Now, come on. How about you quit acting like a freak and meet the kid?”

“If you’re just going to continue badgering me, I suppose.”

“That’s the freakin’ spirit.”

The three of them sat down at the dining table, drinking coffee and eating knockoff _Froot Loops_ as Max and Royce explained the situation in full. Royce tried not to elaborate much about his father, but by Preston’s expression, Max could tell that the older man understood.

“I didn’t see any bags with him when he came in. Did you want my help getting them from the car?” Preston asked tactfully.

“He doesn’t have any,” Max said.

Preston’s eyes widened as if on cue. “Pardon? Goodness, has he been wearing those things all summer?”

“Pretty much,” Royce shrugged. “But everyone’s supposed to wear their camp shirts all the time, so nobody really noticed.”

“Why didn’t you bring anything else with you?” Preston asked further.

Royce halted at the question. “I needed money,” he answered carefully. “Dad didn’t want to pay for camp, and Mom couldn’t. I had some birthday money saved up, but I was a little short. So, I sold most of my clothes and stuff. This flannel isn’t even mine. Some guy left it at the bus stop when I was leaving to go to camp.”

“Oh, dear, that’s terrible,” Preston frowned.

“It’s okay,” Royce said.

“Max, how tired are you?” Preston asked.

Max suddenly realized that he had been listlessly staring at his half-full coffee mug for the past few minutes. He shook himself awake and blinked hard.

“I’m surviving,” he mumbled. “I had to drive Nikki and Neil to the airport this morning, so I didn’t get to sleep last night.”

“You’re both messes,” Preston sighed. He stood up and quickly cleared the table, setting the dishware into the kitchen sink. “Here’s how this morning is going to continue. Max, go get some rest. Royce, you’re coming with me.”

“What?” Royce asked. “Where?”

Preston smiled kindly. “We’re going to get you some new clothes.”

“You don’t need to-,”

“If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll have you know that I work forty hours a week with actors. _College-aged_ actors _._ Royce, if you’re going to be staying here for a bit, I require that you have something fresh to put on. Is that understood?”

Royce bit his lower lip. “Okay.”

“Thank you for cooperating. Max, the car keys?”

Max had to laugh at the serious look over Preston’s face. He fished out his car keys before tossing them to Preston. Preston fumbled with them but managed to look professional even in his clumsiness.

“Royce and I will finish cleaning. You go to bed.”

Max accepted the command graciously, slipping out of the dining room and into the bedroom. He laid down on his bed for the first time in months, hardly even bothering to take off his jeans. Something felt perfect about the way his body gravitated towards the sag in the middle.

Though strangely, despite his clear exhaustion, he found it harder to sleep than usual. He was too stimulated by the fresh and pleasant sounds of his apartment’s air conditioning unit, and the low din of Preston and Royce sorting the dishes into the washing machine.

But like any dedicated hunter, sleep found him. And when it did, Max let it strike without even putting up a fight.

It felt good to be home.

* * *

 

By the end of their second week with Royce, Max and Preston had almost forgotten that the boy technically did not belong with them.

They lived their lives almost normally. Preston went off to the theater most days during the week to practice for an upcoming show, and Max was found answering newspaper advertisements for odd-jobs around town in order to pick up some extra cash. And Royce, who proved more than capable of looking out for himself, mostly stayed in the apartment alone. He spent most of his time reading through Preston’s scripts, or messaging Kel from the house laptop. Occasionally, he played through Max’s video games, or took walks around the apartment complex.

However, though they were busy during the daytime hours, they always had time to spend together at night. Max often walked through the door with a rented DVD in his hands for them to watch.

And while Max had never understood the luxury of domesticity before, he was starting to understand why people fought their entire lives to get jobs they didn’t care for just so that they could support even one beautiful facet of their existence. 

Because in those moments, he felt something greater than happiness- belonging.

Of course, in the back of his mind, Max knew that Royce would have to go to his real home eventually. Often, he just chose to have the privilege of not having to think about it.

Unfortunately, that privilege was short-lived.

The three of them had been watching some emotional French movie that they had found in a cardboard box under Preston’s bed. Royce watched intently as the actors lamented onscreen. He was so absorbed in the narrative that he hardly noticed when Preston stood up from the couch and brought Max with him.

Preston yanked Max into the kitchen and held up his phone. He spoke in a harsh whisper. “Look at this.”

Max had to stare at the screen for a few seconds before he realized it was a Facebook post featuring a dated image of Royce’s face staring back at him. Underneath it, a caption read:

_Missing Child in Littleton Area, CO. Royce McCallister was last seen on June 15 th and is believed to have run away. Please call the attached number, or your local police dept., with any information of recent sightings. _

“What do we do?” Preston asked, the phone trembling in his hands.

Max didn’t answer him. Instead, he snatched the phone out of his hands and marched into the living room where Royce was still sitting. He shut the television off, and before Royce could protest, snapped, “What the fuck is this?”

Royce stared at the post for a long moment, eyes growing wide as horror dawned on him. “I-,”

“You little shit!” Max growled, using every ounce of willpower at his disposal to restrain himself from lunging forward. The puzzle in Max’s head pieced itself together with a rapid-fire clarity. “You lied to me. You lied to _David._ The reason your dad never picked you up from camp was because he didn’t even know you were there. Isn’t it?”

“Max, please-,” Preston broke in.

“Shut it,” Max snapped. “This little bastard’s been playing me since we met, and I’m sick of it.”

“I-I didn’t mean to- everything just got so out of hand, I-,” Royce stammered.

“What? What did you do?” Max interjected. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Max, sit down!” Preston yelled.

Max stopped in his tracks, whipping around to meet a set of bright, furious eyes. Max felt his mouth go dry. Though Max had always been a good length shorter than Preston, this was the first time that he actually felt _smaller_ than the other man.

“You are going to get your head out of your ass right now,” Preston said, his voice breaking like glass. “You are going to hear what he has to say, and you are going to be patient with him. Do you hear me? I will not tolerate your father in this house.”

Maybe it was the mention of his father, or maybe it was the way that Preston didn’t even blink as he stared Max down- but Max obeyed without protest. He sat down on the couch and allowed his active mind to settle. He counted ten breaths in, and eleven breaths out. And then he felt ready to talk.

“I’m sorry,” Max said quietly. He took another moment before pushing the sore topic again, “But we need to know: Royce, what did you do?”

No longer shaking, Royce busied his hands with the tie of his pajama pants. “I swear, I didn’t want to get you or Preston in trouble. I- My parents have been split up since I was ten. I have this arrangement where I live at my mom’s house in the spring and summer, and at my dad’s in the fall and winter. But Mom hasn’t been doing so great, and Dad is… he drinks, and he gets angry a lot. I was sick of it. Anyways, my parents aren’t on talking terms, so they pretty much rely on me to get messages across.”

“You tricked them,” Max said, the anger in his voice replaced by some kind of respectful astonishment.

“Kind of,” Royce bit his lip. “I told Mom that Dad was going to take me early in the summer, and I told Dad that Mom would drop me off in August. I sold all my clothes, and I forged my mom’s signature on the camp application. I didn’t know I was going to stay with you and Preston for so long. I was originally going to just run away. But then you guys bought me _clothes_ and you were so nice-,”

“Shit, Royce,” Max sighed. “You know you can’t stay with us now, right?”

Max’s thumb hovered over the green “call” button that would direct him straight to the local police station.

“Max, please,” Royce begged, the whites around his eyes flashing. “You can’t let me go back there. Please. If you give one damn about me, you won’t let me go.”

Max blinked at the swear that broke past Royce’s lips. He wished for one moment that he could look at Royce’s petrified face without seeing his own reflection in the boy’s wild eyes. Maybe then it would be easier to leave Royce to the wolves. Maybe then Max could, in good conscience, go back to the simple way that everything was and had been for the last eight years of his life.

But if there was one thing to know about Max- it was that he had always liked to make things difficult for himself.

Max set the phone down.

“Why does your dad want you so badly if he treats you like shit?”

Royce shrugged. “Child support, mostly. And state benefits. I heard him talking about it to some of his friends once. For every month that he has custody of me, he gets like, four-hundred dollars. I swear, Max, he doesn’t care about me past that.”

“Are you telling the truth?” Max asked.

Royce looked him in the eyes and nodded.

“Okay,” Max said. “Then you’re going to have to trust me that this’ll all work out, okay?”

And with that, Max picked Preston’s phone back up, hit the bright green button on the screen, and called the police department.

By nearly midnight, two squad cars had pulled up to Max’s apartment complex. Max watched from the balcony window as four men got out- three officers, and an average-looking guy in a faded shirt who Max assumed to be Royce’s father.

“I promise, I’m not leaving you,” Max said firmly for the fifth time that hour. “I just can’t get into legal trouble before I do this. Do you understand me?”

“I do,” Royce said, though the pale fear on his face spoke otherwise.

“You’re gonna go with him, but it’s only temporary.”

“I know. Okay.”

Before Max could say anything else, a loud knock came at the door- paired with the firm demand for Max to open up. Max glanced at Preston, who had taken to busying himself with packing Royce’s things into a reusable grocery bag.

“Preston?” Max asked quietly. “Can you take Royce into the back?”

Preston nodded stiffly. “Of course.” He ushered Royce quickly into the back room. Royce gripped the older man’s hand tightly as he walked back with him.

Max took a deep breath before opening the door and greeting the officers.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw the man standing with them. The man looked like he was in his mid-forties, with sandy brown hair and a tan complexion that matched Royce’s.

Max cleared out his throat. “You’re Mr. McCallister?”

Royce’s father scowled, and it suddenly struck Max that they shared the same electric green eyes.

“Where is my fucking son?”

Max steeled his expression and stiffened his jaw. He shushed the noisy heart in his chest and stepped back to invite the group of men inside. “Do any of you want a drink?”

“I don’t got time for this bull,” Mr. McCallister snapped. “I was told that I was supposed to pick my son up at his damn mother’s house this morning. When I got there, she told me that she’d thought he had been at _my_ house since _June_.”

Mr. McCallister leaned forward into the conversation aggressively.

Max bristled. “I can explain everything. Cool the fuck down.”

The police were the first to take Max’s invitation for questioning. Max sat down with them at the coffee table as they took report of the incident. After mentioning the calls to Royce’s father that went through, Mr. McCallister admitted that the number hadn’t been operable since May.

“The little shit must’ve given you a faulty number on purpose,” Mr. McCallister huffed.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sir. We’d like to see the boy now,” One of the officers requested, clicking his pen before setting it in his shirt-pocket.

“Of course. He’s in the back. Room to your left. My roommate is with him.”

The police glanced at one another before standing up and cautiously walking deeper into the apartment. As soon as they’d left, Max took the opportunity to pull Mr. McCallister to the side. “I want a word.”

Mr. McCallister entertained him with a grunt. “Fine, freak. What do you want? If this is about me pressing charges on you and your little boyfriend, you can rest assured that I’m not. Couldn’t afford a goddamned lawyer even if I wanted to.”

“I appreciate that,” Max ground out, forcing his politeness like metal through a wood-chipper. “But that’s not what I wanted.”

“Then what the fuck are you wasting my time for?”

“I want guardianship of Royce,” Max said. “I’ll give you twenty-thousand.”

“What? You want to buy my fucking son?”

“I did the math. Twenty-grand is twice the amount he’s worth in benefits and child-support.”

“That’s my fucking _son,_ asshole,” Mr. McCallister snarled.

Max felt his confidence tremble. He sent a silent prayer out to the first god that might pity him- he prayed that Royce had been honest with him. He prayed that Mr. McCallister truly did not care about his son.

He felt awful immediately after. But he had come this far, and he was therefore determined to see just this one thing work in his favor.

“Cash,” Max said. “That’s my final offer.”

Mr. McCallister stared at Max for a while, as if he had finally realized that the younger man was serious about his proposal. “You probably don’t even have twenty-thousand in this shithole.”

“You want to fucking bet?”

“Maybe I do. But first, you tell me why the hell you want _my_ boy so badly.”

Max felt an odd rush of relief at the way Mr. McCallister had said, “my boy”. It was no different than the way one might say “my house”, or “my bank account”. It betrayed the fact that Mr. McCallister saw Royce only as a possession. And that made all the difference.

Because unlike children- possessions could be bought.

With a new fire ignited in him, Max drew his lip back into a snarl. “Because I don’t like you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you with Royce. Look, do you want the goddamned money or not?”

Mr. McCallister read Max’s face in silence for a moment before his lip twitched into a dry smirk. He pulled a receipt out of his pocket and a pen from his shirt. Then, he quickly scrawled out an address on the back of the crinkled paper before passing it to Max.

“Don’t come to visit, kid,” Mr. McCallister said.

Max forced himself not to let out a sob of relief as he clutched the flimsy paper tight in his fist.

The police escorted Royce and his father out of the apartment after they had finished their report. Royce stuck close to them in the same way a young child might hover around his mother in a crowded public place. Once the door had closed behind them, Preston jumped up from his seat at the dining table.

“Twenty-thousand dollars?” He yelled. 

“Preston, how-,”

“I watched your conversation. Can you tell me in what universe you think we’re living in that we can just give away _twenty-thousand dollars?”_

“I know how to handle this. I’m going to call David,” Max said. “He said that if we ever needed anything-,”

“Max, we’re damn lucky that Royce’s father didn’t press any charges! I know you care about him- I care too! But we can’t seriously spend twenty-thousand dollars to raise a teenager. For Christ’s sake- you’re only ten years older than he is! Girls who get knocked up at sixteen have more advantages than you.”

“I know, I know!” Max hissed. He ran his fingers roughly through his overgrown hair and let himself take a breath before continuing. “I can’t leave him with that fucker.”

“Royce’s father doesn’t seem so bad-,”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s the best fucking human being on this planet. Royce will run away. I know he will,” Max said. “Look, the only reason I’m alive today is because I found _you_. You took me in when I had nobody, and without you- fuck, I don’t even want to think about where I’d be. Preston, what if Royce can’t find someone like you?”

Max swallowed hard. He thought he’d feel any sense of anger in his blood- but to his own shock, all he could feel was a sickening sense of hope.

Preston smiled bitterly and let his chin fall into his hand.

“Preston?”

“I’m okay, Max. I just… I suppose I forgot how passionate you can be. It’s nice to see you like this again.”

Max let go of a weak, humorless laugh. “I’m calling David,” he said. And because he couldn’t find the proper words to his request, he held out his hand to Preston.

And after a moment quiet enough for Max to hear his own heartbeat ramming in his chest, Preston accepted. He grabbed Max’s hand tightly with his own and squeezed it in that same comforting way that he had done a million times before.

Max let his shoulders down. “Thank you.”

And with that, he took out his phone and dialed the number for David. He pressed the cold metal to his ear and listened to the buzz of the dial tone as he stood by the balcony watched the police cars as they turned off their lights and pulled out of the apartment lot.

And just like that- the last camper had finally been picked up and taken away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this story is almost done! That's so amazing to me, honestly. I can't believe I've been working on it for an entire year- this story has been with me through a lot of victories and defeats, and I would like to thank it before the end for being there for me. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a read, kudos, bookmark, or comment!
> 
> Before the story ends, if you have any questions about "The Sparrow Still Sings", writing, story development, or anything else related, please send them in! I'd be honored to field them- and they'll be answered immediately after the final chapter is posted. And remember, I track "#The Sparrow Still Sings" on tumblr pretty religiously. Thank you for reading- all I ask is that you stick around for one last chapter.


	14. The Sparrow Still Sings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings for:  
> -Parental Neglect  
> -Offensive Language  
> -Depictions of Trauma  
> -Depictions of Anxiety  
> -Mention of Suicide

The Sparrow Still Sings

“I just don’t understand how this is going to work,” David muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

David clearly hadn’t slept much on the plane ride over to Max’s house, and it showed in his mussed hair and tired eyes. He sat at Max’s dining table, furrowing his brow as he thumbed through the legal information he’d printed out the night prior.

“Voluntary surrender,” Max said, tapping his fingers anxiously on the dining table’s glass surface. “Royce’s dad has custody, so he can choose to grant me guardianship.”

“What about the mother? She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

Max nodded, “I mean, yeah, but she’s got no job, and she can’t apply for disability benefits, so she’s financially incapacitated. This was supposed to be her last summer with custody.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” David sighed. He glanced sideways at Max. “And you think you can handle Royce?”

Max nodded. “It’ll be cramped as fuck in this shitty little apartment for a few months, but Preston and I have been looking into bigger places to stay. Plus, we think he’s going to be getting a paid position with his theater troupe as a full-time manager this fall, so money shouldn’t be too tight.”

David frowned and fiddled with his thumbs. “Well, yes, that’s all important. But I was more so referring to you as a person. You’re only twenty-four, Max. And taking on a fourteen-year-old, when you’re so young yourself-,”

“I know I’m young,” Max huffed. “I know I have a lot of shit I need to do before I’m old and pissing in my hospice bedpan. But unfortunately, I don’t have an infinite amount of time wait before I do this.”

David cracked a weak smile and straightened up the stack of documents before standing up. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded, stuffing the papers into the shoulder bag he’d brought with him. “Okay. Let’s go get him.”

They drove to the address Mr. McCallister had written down on the back of his receipt and found themselves in a small Podunk town with almost as many houses as car-repair shops on the other side of the city. Royce and his father lived in a cramped-looking duplex apartment with a dead-brown grass lawn, and a car up on bricks sitting in the cracked driveway.

Max took in a shaky breath; the fierce determination he’d felt only moments ago had quickly been extinguished and replaced with a much less imposing doubt.

However, David didn’t give Max a second to focus on the “what-if” scenarios that likely would have plagued the young man’s head. Instead, he grabbed his messenger bag close to his chest and put on a somber grin. “Are you ready?”

Max nodded in place of words and put his car in park before cutting the engine and stepping out.

The porch step belonging to the McCallister’s was riddled with overflowing ashtrays and pieces of dulled down beer bottle shards. David, who had always been a stickler for environmental conscientiousness, simply turned the corners of his lips down in disapproval.

Max knocked hard on the door.

He could vaguely hear the squeak of a rusty recliner returning back to its upright position, and the thumping of footsteps. Mr. McCallister stopped for a moment to yell out something to Royce before continuing to the door.

Mr. McCallister opened the door as if expecting Max to be there. He didn’t smile- but stuck his neck out of the doorframe just enough to look both ways for prying eyes.

“Come on in and take a seat. Leave your shoes on,” Mr. McCallister said, ushering the men inside. He closed the door behind them.

David and Max took a seat on the side of a leather sectional. David played with his fingers as he slowly registered his surroundings.

Mr. McCallister lived like Max imagined any dirt-poor bachelor might. Clothes and empty cans were scattered across the room in place of any real decoration, and the couches had spots and stains on them that Max didn’t want to ask about. A decently expensive television was playing movies on silent across from him, but the screen was oddly discolored.

“You have a lovely home,” David said as Mr. McCallister took to sitting on his recliner.

Mr. McCallister laughed bitterly. “Thanks, but I know my place is shit. Hot water ain’t working, electricity goes out at least once a week, and every time it rains, water leaks through the goddamned roof. But I appreciate being patronized.”

David spluttered, “I-I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine, freak. Cool your fuckin’ jets.”

“Where’s Royce?” Max asked.

“He’s waiting. If you have the cash, that is.”

“I-I have it,” David said, reaching into his messenger bag. He pulled out two wrapped wads of bills and passed them over to Mr. McCallister.

The man smiled graciously and collected them, carefully counting through each pile before running his fingers along their green surface. When he looked back up to regard Max and David, there was a satisfied glint in his eyes that prompted Max to speak.

“See? It’s all there,” Max said.

Mr. McCallister whistled low. “I’m glad to do business. I’ll send an appeal to the court by the end of the week. Royce! Get out here, son.”

Max heard a door in the back of the apartment creak open as Royce walked out. He had his shoes on, and a bag already packed and around his shoulder, as if he’d been prepared for Max to arrive for him at any instant. Max almost felt guilty at the thought- it had taken him no less than a week to arrange for David’s stay.

Max assumed that the only thing that had kept Royce from running away in that long stretch of time was the hope that Max would come for him. Max idly wondered just how long Royce would have waited for him. The thought was almost scary.

“Is this what you want, kid?” Mr. McCallister’s voice brought Max back from his thoughts.

The man regarded his son with no warmth or hostility- as if he were talking to a stranger he’d just met.

Royce stared at his father for a moment before nodding quietly. Max was almost offended by the lack of a smart comment from his mouth.

“Fine. Max, is it? Take him. He’s your trouble now. And don’t come crying back to me when he puts you through God-knows-what.”

“I’m positive that won’t happen,” David said firmly. “Come on, Royce. Let’s get you home.”

Royce complied, but he seemed almost reluctant to do so. He looked as if he were waiting for something- something more than Max and David. As they made their way out, Royce stopped at the doorway and looked back.

“Bye, Dad,” he said.

His father had already turned away.

And with that, Royce took in one last shaky breath and marched out into the sunlight.

Max guided Royce with a gentle hand on his shoulders, leading him to the car. Max unlocked the old sedan, tossed David the keys, and took a seat in the back. Instantly, he took to checking the skin on Royce’s arms.

“Did he hurt you?” Max demanded. “I swear to fucking God, if he put a hand on you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“He wouldn’t. What kind of salesman breaks his own merchandise?” Royce sneered, pushing Max’s hands away.

“Smartass,” Max huffed, feeling the oddest relief at the venom in Royce’s tone. He sat back into the plush seats of his car and sighed. “Seriously though, kid. Are you okay? You’re giving me a look.”

“I’m fine,” Royce muttered. He paused before speaking up again, “I-I feel like something’s wrong with me, though. I mean- believe me, I’m glad you came and got me-,”

“But?”

“But while I was walking out the only thing I wanted was for my dad to put up a fight. I-I mean, it’s not like I wanted to stay with him or anything. I guess I just wanted to feel like he cared enough about me to not just… give me away.”

Max sighed, thinking for a moment about his own father- who had thrown him out without a chance to collect his possessions or his wits before it had happened.

And then he thought about Preston, who had agreed to give him a place to stay, and a way to survive. Max rubbed Royce’s shoulder firmly.

“Hey, quit whining. _I_ care about you. Enough to get your bratty ass, anyways.”

“Yeah,” Royce said. “Thank you for that. Should I be calling you ‘Dad’ now?”

Max grimaced. “Just ‘Max’ is fine.”

There was a silence that took on the car as the three made their way out of town. As soon as they hit the highway, David broke out into a grin.

“This is depressing. We should be celebrating! Max, do you have any good music in your car?”

“Turn on the CD player,” Max shrugged. “It’s either hard rock or showtunes in there.”

“Sure thing,” David agreed. He turned on the car’s ancient CD player and soon, the soundtrack to West Side Story was blasting through the speakers. David put down the windows on the highway and turned the music up as loudly as he could without it hurting.

Even Royce smiled.

 _Could be!_  
Who knows?  
There’s something due any day…

* * *

 

**Two Years Later**

“Is this it?” Preston asked, leaning forward in the passenger’s seat of their rental car.

“Should be,” Max huffed. He eased the red SUV up to the sidewalk and passed it off to a valet before ushering Royce and Preston inside. Nevada offered more than splendid choices for wedding venues what with Las Vegas’ presence in it, but Nikki and Leanne had chosen to settle on a much more modest (though still undeniably beautiful) hotel an hour or two out from the city.

She had also chosen to delay the event for two years while she worked on figuring out her life with her fiancée and daughter.

Max had been chosen to be her best man, and thus he had never felt more self-conscious of his own clothes. She had sent him a golden tie in the mail as part of her invitation, and he’d managed to pair it up with a decently flattering suit he’d picked from the Goodwill racks (It had needed some alterations too, of course. He’d hemmed it up himself). He’d thought it fine in the moment, but now he was becoming painfully aware of the aged fabric and a slight bleach stain on the inside of the right cuff.

“Are you okay, Max?” Royce asked.

Max glanced up at the boy. “Peached. You and Preston go find some seats in the reception hall. I’m gonna go find Nikki.”

Royce nodded, a faint smile on his face. “Sure thing.”

He left them to find their way as he made his own back to the dressing rooms. When he arrived, he found about twelve or so people milling about with golden ties alike to his own. Max tapped the shoulder of one of the other groomsmen.

“Hey, do you know where Nikki is? I’m supposed to be her best man and-,”

“Oh! Max! I haven’t seen you in so long, I barely recognized you,” The groomsman said. He had shaggy brown hair and a plain face. Max furrowed his brow as he tried to recall the man’s name.

“It’s me, Harrison. You didn’t forget me, did you?” Harrison said. Max “oh”-ed in response.

“You’re the freak who did magic,” Max said, remembering.

“I still _do_ magic. I’m performing tonight. Charge free, of course,” Harrison said.

“It’d be better if you didn’t,” Max shot back. “Now, can you point me in Nikki’s direction, or am I just going to have to stumble around like an idiot until I fucking find her myself?”

“She’s further back. You’ll see her. She’s the only one wearing white,” Harrison said cheerfully.

Max took off before Harrison could offer up his business card.

He found Nikki in a dressing room in the far back, fretting over a young girl’s hair. The girl looked about four or five and wore a golden dress with puffy frills on the bottom.

“You look so beautiful, baby girl,” Nikki hummed, fixing a headband with a flower into the mass of her daughter’s curly ringlets.

“Is this Emily?” Max spoke up, finding the opportunity to make himself known.

Nikki glanced up, and a smile instantly flooded to her face. “Max!” she exclaimed, standing up and stumbling over to him. “I missed you- can I hug you?”

“God, I hate this sappy bull… _crap_ ,” Max groaned, careful not to swear around the young ears in the room. “But yeah, you can if you want to.”

Instantly, he felt strong arms around his chest as Nikki wrapped him up in a rib-crushing embrace. She broke off quickly to relieve him of the constriction, and to introduce her daughter. Nikki picked the girl up and held her on her hip.

“Max, this is Emily. Emily, this is Max. He’s an old friend of mine. Say hi!”

Emily leaned her head on Nikki’s chest and raised a shy hand in greeting. Max noted how tightly the young girl was hanging on to Nikki. There was some trust there- and had Max not known the troubles Nikki had faced in gaining it, he never would have assumed it newfound.

“Are you ready to give your speech?” Nikki asked.

“Are you ready to deliver your vows?” Max countered.

“Touché.”

“Really, though, do you think I’d pass up the opportunity to insult you publicly, in front of all your friends and family? Hell, I wrote up an itemized list of every big mistake you’ve ever made, just so that Leanne knows what she’s getting into.”

“Is item number one asking you to be my best man?” Nikki joked.

Max rolled his eyes. “No, that’s item number two.”

“What’s item number one?”

“Letting the disaster that is me back into your life,” Max said, though his smile was nothing but genuine and warm. “A huge freaking miscalculation on your part, honestly.”

“Shut up!” Nikki laughed. She playfully socked Max in the shoulder before letting her wide grin sink into an easier half-smile. “Hey, Neil’s here. You should say hello before the ceremony. He told me that you guys really haven’t been keeping in touch since camp.”

Max nearly cursed. “Nik-,”

“I’m going to pull the bride-card,” Nikki threatened. “Because, you know, it _is_ my special day and-,”

“Fine! Fine. Where the hell is he?” Max grumbled, crossing his arms tightly to suppress the anxious spike in his chest.

“He should be upstairs,” Nikki said. “There’s a balcony that overlooks the main hall.”

“Alright, I’ll go find him. I’ll see you later. Nice meeting you, kid,” Max waved.

He retreated back into the main hall and found the stairs without much trouble.

The balcony overlooking the main hall was dimly lit with old-fashioned oil chandeliers. A photographer sat between the rails, taking pictures of the scene below.

Max avoided him quickly before he could ask for a photo, and found Neil hanging out on the far side of the balcony, with his arms crossed over the railings and a solemn frown on his face. There was some instinct in Max’s chest that pulled him away; begged him to reconsider and return back to the reception hall where he could distract himself with some menial task like fixing Royce’s tie for the millionth time.

But before he could even give himself the chance to hear that instinct out, his mouth was already moving.

“Neil.”

The older man glanced up at Max, his weary face void of any strong emotion. “Hey.”

Max walked up to him and leaned on the railing as well, glancing his old best friend over. The profile of Neil’s face was clean-shaven, but full. He had managed to gain some weight in the past two years and was wearing it well.

“Excited, best man?” Neil asked.

“Fucking thrilled,” Max rolled his eyes.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as both desperately grasped at the air for something more to say.

Neil cleared his throat and looked down at Max’s left hand. “Nice ring.”

“It’s tungsten,” Max said, running his thumb along the smooth metal.

“Are you excited to marry him?” Neil asked. He looked downcast, as if some nail that had always been half-wedged into the coffin had finally been hammered down all the way.

Max shrugged. “Ceremonies are the fucking worst. The only thing I give a shit about are the tax benefits,” he sighed before adding, “But Preston’s having a goddamned ball, and it’s nice to see him happy.”

“I’m… I’m glad for you.”

Max tightened his jaw. “Neil, are we ever going to talk about this?”

“I don’t want to ruin the occasion,” Neil said quietly.

Max had to laugh at that. “It’s not _my_ wedding.”

Neil looked contemplative for a moment before sighing, letting his head bow over his shoulders and staring listlessly at the floor twenty feet below. “What’s there to talk about? I loved you, and you didn’t feel the same. Is there more to it than that?”

Max was almost complacent enough to agree- but there was something about the way Neil said ‘loved’- as if the past-tense was somewhat like the expiration date on bread. Because though it had passed, the food would still be perishable for some time.

“I was shitty to you,” Max confessed. “I lashed out, and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Neil shrugged.

“Neil-,”

“No, I do. Really,” Neil insisted. “Honestly, I wasn’t exactly polite with you, either. Especially when we first reunited.”

“You were a dick,” Max agreed lightly. He sucked in his cheeks for a moment before continuing. “I never did figure out why you were at camp, though. If you had such a good job and all that shit. I figured you were there for Nikki or whatever, but-,”

“You’re half-correct,” Neil interrupted. “Truth be told, I didn’t really have another choice in the matter. At the time, I was temporarily barred from the research staff at Yale.”

“What? Why?”

“I had a heart-attack. Mostly from stress and sleep-deprivation. You could say I’d been overworking myself. The research institution thought it was too dangerous to my own health to let me return after my hospital stay, so they forced me to take the summer off.” Neil murmured. Max’s memory instantly pulled up the image of Neil on their first day of orientation- with those big black bags under his eyes and his pale skin. “Look, all those years ago, when Nikki and I lost contact with you, and you didn’t come back to camp anymore, we’d thought you’d-,”

“You thought I killed myself?”

“What were we supposed to think?” Neil defended quickly. “Anyways, all you need to know is that I… I didn’t deal with the grief well. I know what you’re thinking, Max, but you were the first and only person I’ve ever loved. And thinking that I lost you- there was no other way for me to cope except through my work. Seeing you on that first day, and just knowing that you had been handling yourself just _fine_ without me or Nikki- it hurt.”

Max swallowed hard and bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Neil laughed bleakly. “I bet you are.”

There was a moment in the silence that Max felt he would remember for the rest of his life: the image of Neil, with his shoulders slouched, but a resolute fire to his eyes as the dim firelight painted his face a soft orange.

And then Max let it pass. “Look, Neil, I don’t want to fucking fight with you anymore. But I’ll never love you like that, and that’s just something you’re going to have to man up and deal with.”

“So where does that leave us?” Neil asked, his eyes big and round. He almost dared to defy the stars and look _hopeful._

Max shrugged. “Fuck, I don’t know. Friends?”

“Yes, right. I can do that,” Neil said, smiling. Max grinned back- and somehow it seemed that upon closer inspection, the gash in his chest was little more than a light scratch.

They walked back down the stairs together, talking as if the past decade had been for something after all. Max cracked all the right jokes to make Neil laugh again, and Neil made subtle, scathing observations that made Max grin.

The wedding ceremony was nothing extravagant in itself. Nikki cried as Leanne read her vows, the two kissed to seal their marriage, and then everyone was lead into a separate ballroom for dinner. Some took their seats, but most milled about and talked to friends and relatives idly as they waited.

Max was forced to stay behind for photos.

There, he was met by a woman in a sleek white tuxedo- Leanne. She wore both a fresh golden ring around her finger and a beautifully sly grin upon her face.

“I heard you’re the man who inspired my wife to delay this day for two years,” Leanne said.

Max shrugged. “That’s me.”

Leanne held out her hand to shake. “I’d like to thank you.”

There was a moment of pause before Max accepted. “No problem.”

Max heard something click. He glanced to the right, unsurprised to see the wedding photographer’s camera poised right at him.

After photos, they were permitted to go join everyone else in the ballroom. Nikki picked up Emily and tapped Max on the shoulder.

“You should go see your fiancé and your son before dinner,” Nikki half-teased, half-suggested. Max groaned.

“Fiancé. Son,” Max said. “God, I feel old.”

“Nothing like being forty in your twenties,” Nikki laughed back before being stopped by some relative to take pictures. Max let her to the jaws of her insistent family as he made his way over to Preston and Royce, who were sitting at a table near to where he’d be sitting soon.

Preston was dabbing at his face- he’d clearly been crying during the ceremony. “I’m so happy for them,” he said. He sniffled one last time before gesturing to a glass of dark liquid on the table. “I got you a coke.”

“Thanks, Preston,” Max said.

“There are so many people drinking,” Royce grumbled.

Despite being sixteen, and now taller than Max when he stood straight up, Royce still looked like a scared child around the sight and smell of alcohol. Max wondered if Royce would ever outgrow that fear. Judging by the twinge in his own gut as he watched the adults around him clink glasses, he doubted it would be anytime soon.

Max took a sip of his coke. “Suck it up, kid,” he said. “It’s only going to get worse from here.”

Royce nodded stiffly.

“Hey,” Preston said, in an attempt to distract Max. “I think they’re calling you over to sit. Do you have your speech ready?”

Max nodded, feeling around in his pocket for the piece of paper he’d written up on the plane ride over. “Yeah. I’d better go.”

He let Preston kiss his cheek quickly before hurrying to the long dining table where the main wedding court members were meant to sit. There was some mild chatter that Max paid no mind to, and then it seemed like suddenly, he was being handed a microphone and asked to stand.

Max stood up and faced the crowd of people in the room who had hushed in wait for him to begin. Looking to the right, he saw Royce and Preston, and to his left, he saw Nikki with Leanne’s hand clasped with her own in her lap.

Max took a shaky breath in and pulled the crumpled speech out of his pocket. He unfolded it, feeling every eye in the room watching as his hands fumbled with the piece of paper.

At the close of all great things, Max found, there was little else but silence to mark it. As if the world had ever cared enough to practice modern decency, it seemed to allow a hush if only for a moment to mourn the end.

It had been quiet as Max sat in his car after being fired from his first job, and it had been quiet as he sat in the laundry room at Camp Campbell mourning the loss of his second. It had been quiet driving away from the camp he’d learned to take care of, and it had been quiet as Royce had been driven away from him.

But after the silence, often there came a burst of noise to signal the beginning of something new. There had been the screaming between he and Preston that lead him to find work at a familiar campground, there had been the loud chatter of the campers on their first day, and there had been the blasting music David had turned up on the highway to celebrate Royce coming home.

It was silence that followed him as he spoke- quietly at first, but more confidently as the words started to gain a sort of momentum on his sharp tongue. And the silence stayed for one final second after he had said his final word.

And then he raised his glass of soda in honor, and the room exploded into the most rapturous cheers he’d ever heard.

But then, even over the crowd of people, if Max closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could still hear the birds calling outside- just as they always had called outside of his bedroom window, and just as they always had called at camp.

And Max found it a comfort to know that even in the wake of everything new around him, a few things remained the same in any setting, and at any point in time.

Namely, the sun still rises, love still prevails, and the sparrow still sings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all over, huh? When I began this story, my goal was simple: finish, and write 100,000 words. And I reached both of those goals. I'm proud of myself. Finishing a story is such a bittersweet thing for me because the ultimate question becomes, "What now?"
> 
> I started this story three entire years after I finished my last complete story. It takes time for me to become inspired enough to write something and keep at it. There was just something about T3S that begged to be said; some part of me that kept going because I knew I had to. I thank one person in that respect: My great friend, Spencer. T3S was the story that brought me together with who are now two of my closest friends- and it arguably means more to Spencer than it does to me in that way. Of course, these two friends of mine are infinitely important to me as well. Through nearly a year's worth of telephone calls, video chats, and texts, I can honestly say that I can no longer picture a better life without them in it-- and I have this silly little fanfiction to blame for that misfortune. 
> 
> In any case, without that motivation to thank my friends in the only way I knew how, T3S would not have ever concluded. I likely would have stopped around chapter seven. And in essence, while the beginning of T3S was written to make something of myself in a fandom I only really cared about for a few months, the latter half is truly just one very long word of gratitude to Spencer and Zoe. So, I'll finish the last words of this with the two humble words I've been meaning to say for a while now: 
> 
> "Thank you"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
